Begin Again
by bellatrixD
Summary: "Ella Wood," he whispered into the night, like a secret only for him to know. "You're the most infuriating, selfless, stupid, beautiful, idiotic, loving person I know. And I love you." I buried my head into is warm neck, glad to have my sunshine back in the midst of the surrounding darkness. "I'm broken," I said. "Bloody hell, you lose a bit of hair and you go mental. Women."
1. Welcome

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.**

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1\. Welcome

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All sense of time was lost. The icy chill that nipped at my numb body was all that consumed my mind. My stomach ached, seeming to close in on itself from the lack of nourishment. Had it only been hours since I was exposed to the gruelling winter air? Or had time eluded me so that it had, in actual fact, been days since I was removed from the confines of my home? I couldn't tell.

With frost bitten fingers I rummaged through my pockets and pulled out the apple I picked up from a stall around the corner and bit into it, the juice running down my chin. I would have felt guilty for stealing had I not been so hungry.

Moments passed as I greedily ate the apple and flung the core away into a nearby bin. The thin cardigan I wore did little to protect my small frame from the raging snow despite my efforts of containing as much of my body heat as possible. But still I trudged on, unaware of my destination but praying for a place with a small fire and bed; desiring anything more would surely be selfish. Even the thought of curling up by a warm fire made my body tingle in anticipation.

I looked up to the darkening sky and realised I should be getting somewhere safe to rest for the night. I thought back to my bedtimes at home and how father would tuck my sister and I in bed after playing flying dragons atop our beds, and then mother would read us a quick story before they both left to their party downstairs with friends. I remembered how we would stay up in the dark whispering about anything and everything so the monsters that lurked under our beds could not get to us, that our happiness and love would repel them from our house like a wild tornado. Most mornings my parents would find us cuddled in the same bed for extra protection and, as the older sibling, we would most likely be in my bed with a broomstick lying idle on the floor beside us. I had to keep a weapon with me; no way was anyone going to take my sister away from me.

A powerful gust of wind smacked against me and I tumbled to the ground from the impact. I tried to move but my muscles and joints ached and relished in the comfort from the thick snow blanketed beneath. So I laid there, too weak to move, my mind void of any thoughts apart from my heavy lids shutting out the scene before me.

Many shops by now had closed and people were resting in their homes by their fireplaces draped in warm blankets. Anyone out in the January night would have to be mad. The street lights illuminated the roads but the wind and snow were so strong that it was impossible to see very far. No doubt I would not be able to be seen my anybody but I could not seem to care.

Succumbing to my bodies fatigue I allowed my eyes to firmly close. I was so comfortable and tired, surely a few minutes rest would not hurt. I snuggled further into the snow and before I knew it I was dead to the world.

* * *

The sounds of pots and pans clattering and a low whining roused me from my sleep. The effort to open my eyes was sluggish but once my vision cleared, I found myself encompassed in several blankets.

It was all a dream. Of course I was still at home. What was I thinking? I chuckled to myself for even thinking my parents could ever leave me. They loved me. It was obvious every day through the love and affection that they bestowed, whether it be through random kisses and hugs, or their soothing words. They were not evil. They would never abandon me. A sleepy grin took over my face and I snuggled further into the warmth, glad to be away from the vivid torture my mind had conjured up. Had I eaten something bad before bed?

The smell of food alerted me to the rumbling of my stomach. Nothing like a good old hearty breakfast to clear away the aftermath of a nightmare. Blearily blinking out the sleep from my eyes, I sat up and stretched my sore muscles, mentally cringing at the sound of my joints popping. I turned my head to my sister's bed beside my own: my bed was not as warm as when she was with me and I was always up before her.

Instead of the familiar large purple bed, I found myself meeting a lop-sided grin and a lolling tongue staring back at me.

I gaped at the dog sitting on the floor beside me. Had mother and father gotten a dog? No, of course they did not, they hated animals.

I tilted my head and stared at the dog. It copied, tilting its own head to the same side. I sat up straight again. The dog followed. I leaned forward slightly only for the dog to move in even closer, almost licking my face in the process but I was able to move back in time, gasping from the sudden action. The dog let out a great bark and trotted out the room.

Questions soared through my mind all at once, all an echoed incoherent jumble of noise fighting for answers.

I whipped my eyes around my surroundings. Panic flared through me as I was not met with the usual red walls of my room.

No. It was all just a dream, these past few days – or was it weeks? Wasn't it? Mother and father wouldn't…they couldn't…

_Panic_.

The room looked very old-fashioned compared to my lavish home. I found myself resting on a worn pistachio coloured sofa instead of my bed. The walls were a warm lavender although a few scorch marks stood out against the soft colour on the wall to my right. The living room, I supposed, was very plain and contained a sofa and two armchairs, all different textures and colours, a fireplace on the wall where all the furniture faced and several bookshelves against the back wall behind me. From the looks of it, the people who lived here did not appear to be kidnapping murderers, a thought which somewhat soothed me. But then again, I had yet to meet them. And looks tended to be deceiving. I gulped, once again being engulfed in panic.

Then everything came crashing down. It was not a dream. I had been abandoned. Left to roam the streets on my own, to find my own way in the wicked world at only eight years old. They really did it.

My breathing began to hitch in my throat as a lump formed. What was I going to do? I was only a child! So consumed in my mental panic attack I did not notice the tell-tale signs of my oncoming tears: the stinging of my eyes and my face flooding in suffocating warmth. But just as my sobs were on the verge of bursting out, a figure entered from the same archway which the dog had retreated to moments ago.

"Oh, hello dear! How nice it is to see you awake and healthy. You poor thing, sleeping out there in the cold. But don't you worry my love, this is sure to warm your cockles." A small plump woman put down a tray of assorted foods on the table in front of me.

The smell of the food momentarily distracted me and my stomach howled. I peered up at the woman, a gentle smile playing on her lips, as she gestured to the array of foods before me. Slowly, I reached out for the fork. The pancake drizzled onto the plate as I carefully placed it into my mouth. Another howl tore through the air, this time from the pleasurable sweetness. Without another thought but on satisfying my hunger, I proceeded to inhale the food. The toast smothered in butter melted down my throat, soothing the dryness. The orange juice helped to wash down the food and moistened my sore lips. I was sure there was more food but I could not recall all that there was.

Within moments my stomach ached uncomfortably from the mass of food, crumbs littered the sofa and myself, remnants of food all around my mouth. I sighed contentedly before noticing the dog sitting by the feet of the woman.

No longer distracted, I noticed the eyes watching me. I looked up at the woman and wiped my face with the sleeves of the enormous jumper covering me. My mother's etiquette teachings were bought back to the forefront of my mind and my face began heating up as I realised how silly I must look, eating like an animal and then wearing it all over me.

"Oh dear, no need to fret about the mess," the old woman smiled. "Here, let me clear this all up now."

She left the room with the tray. The dog stayed watching me curiously, tilting its head once again and I couldn't help but breathe out a small laugh at the cuteness. The dog's ears pointed up, big black eyes and the pink tongue salivating all over the floor just seemed to scream adorable.

"Tha's Jimmy," a gruff voice called from the archway. I turned to see an old man leaning on a wooden stick wearing tattered overalls over a shirt and a heavy coat. He limped into the room and threw his coat off and onto an armchair before sitting down on it. The dog instantly went to his side and lay down by his feet.

My throat was still aching from being exposed to the chilling air for who knows how long so I couldn't form a reply. Not that I wanted to anyway, his presence seemed to scare me into silence. Instead, I looked on at the exchange between the man and Jimmy; the dogs attentiveness to any movement or noise from his master and the man's gentleness in stroking the dogs shaggy black and white fur.

The woman returned within minutes, patting her hands on her apron and sat down on the remaining armchair after greeting the man with a brief kiss to the temple.

"You all better love?" she asked.

I roughly cleared my throat before replying with a meek, "Yes, thank you." The old woman beamed in response.

"What on earth were ye doin' out there? Did ye not see the snowstorm comin' in? And what would yer parents be thinkin' righ' now young lass?" the man asked not roughly, but curiously. At the mention of my parents my shoulders slumped and I could feel the tears welling up all over again. I still couldn't comprehend why it happened. Why me?

"Oh, Bill! Look what you did now, silly man." A comforting hand was placed on my shoulder and I looked up to see the woman sitting beside me. "There, there love, we'll help ya get home now."

That was all it took for my tears to leak out. What home? I had no home, not anymore. Without thinking I buried my face in the woman's bosom, wrapping my arms around her middle with everything I could. My crying intensified when I felt her arms hold me back, rubbing my back and stroking my hair, and heard her soft murmurs. A nudge on my arm notified me of another presence and I winked an eye open to see Jimmy rubbing his nose against my arm.

"I'll er…just put some tea on," Bill said and hobbled out the room. I could barely even hear him over my own crying and the kind lady's whispered words.

I began to calm down and slowly my crying stopped until I was left hiccupping. I moved away from the woman's arms and noticed a huge wet patch on her top.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I managed to whisper. Embarrassed by my actions yet again, I looked down at my hands in my lap. A finger under my chin tilted my head up to look in the woman's brown eyes.

"It's not a problem dear. Don't fret. Now then," she used the pads of her thumbs to wipe the tears from my cheeks before continuing, "You want to discuss this over a cuppa? Or would you rather some hot milk?"

"Milk please," I replied.

The woman called out to the old man still in the kitchen, "Bill, love, will you warm us up some milk please!"

A gruff, "'course," was heard before the sounds of dishes clinking together and thudding footsteps took over. Within seconds Bill returned and handed a mug to me. I sipped on it as Bill sat back down with a mug of his own with Jimmy following.

"What's yer name?" Bill asked after a few seconds of silence as I drank my milk, revelling in the warmth it was bringing to the rest of my slightly chilled body.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "Ella."

"Well, Ella," the old woman said, "that over there is Bill, my husband, and I'm Annie, but everyone around here calls me Nanny Anne. Feel free to call me whatever you feel most comfortable with."

"Thank you…Nanny Anne," I smiled.

"Ella, you from 'round here?" Bill asked, readjusting the cushion behind him.

"I don't…I don't know where I am," I said.

"Well, where are yer parents?"

I looked down again into my near empty mug, afraid to see their expressions and not trusting myself not to start crying again. "They don't want me," I mumbled.

No one spoke for a while and I didn't dare to look up. It was the first time I had said it out loud. It made it feel more real now that I had admitted it to others. Nanny Anne was the one to break the silence.

"Now why would you say that dear?" she asked, smoothing back some of my dark hair.

I had to take a few moments to calm my breathing before replying. "They got rid of me."

Bill was the one to break the uncomfortable silence in the room this time. "Wha' kind of nonsense is that? Wha' kind of parents would do that'? Who would ever kick out a li'l thing like you? Tha's absolutely ridiculous!" Bill sounded angry. It reminded me of the horrid moments I so longed to be a figment of imagination and I curled into myself. Nanny Anne noticed my change in demeanour and instantly chastised her husband to calm down.

"You've had a rough night, how about you go on up to bed and get a good rest. You can stay here for as long as you need Ella darling."

Nanny Anne stood and helped me up to my feet as well. After waiting for my legs to relax from being stiff for so long, she led me out the archway and up the stairs. My eyes began drooping before we even made it all the way up. I did not notice myself falling back on a bed.

* * *

The table was laid with piles of toast and plates of eggs and sausages. I was sat at the kitchen table stroking Jimmy's soft fur as he sat patiently on the seat beside me.

My sleep had been undisturbed by any dreams or nightmares and I awoke with the recognition of not being home; the odd smell I had woken up to worried my senses before remembering the events before. The feeling had left me somewhat hollow which had dispersed as soon as Jimmy joined me in my bed and dragged me down to the kitchen, as if sensing my unease and coming to my rescue before my over-imaginative mind got the better of me by conjuring up the crazy scenarios which can only be thought up by a child.

Nanny Anne was cooking by the stove and she called out to Bill in the garden once all the food was placed on the table.

"Good mornin' lass. You have a nice sleep?" Bill asked with a small smile as he sat himself down at the round table followed by Nanny Anne.

"Yes, thank you sir," I said around a bite of toast, careful not to make as much of a mess as I had before.

"Please, none of that 'sir' business, call me Bill."

I nodded in reply. Breakfast continued in silence with brief comments about a paper shop from Bill ("We'll need some more shipment of the printing paper, tha' old codger Wilkins came in again askin' for a whole case, the bleedin' bastard") and Nanny Anne speaking about the neighbours in the village. No one mentioned the discussion from the night before on my sudden appearance, and for that I was grateful. I was not sure I was ready to discuss it just yet. Or ever.

My mind was stuck on my future while the adults discussed. Where was I going to live? Surely Bill and Nanny Anne would not want me around them until I was old enough to leave. No, they would probably find me a family to stay with. They would want to know why I was kicked out at only eight years old. What would I tell them? Definitely not the truth. Even though I had been disowned I was not about to go and divulge information on my parents; I could not dishonour them like that.

"So Ella," Nanny Anne called, breaking me out of my internal worrying, "you fancy getting to know some of the neighbours tonight over dinner? It's best you ought to meet them soon if you're to be living with us."

My mind went blank. "Excuse me?"

"Well if it's too soon we could always arrange some other day. I'm sure we can organise something. And don't worry about being around us old fuddy-duddies, there are plenty of kids around your age. Although some are quite a menace but you can-"

"Stay with you?" I interrupted. Was I imagining things? No, she could not have possibly thought to let me stay.

Nanny Anne chuckled. "Well of course. You don't think we'd let you leave without a place do go now, did you?"

I stared at her for the longest time, her smile unwavering.

"It's no problem to us lass, we've got space and God knows it'd be nice to have a young soul around, if not for us for Jimmy," Bill said.

At the sound of his name Jimmy let out a great bark and sat up on his haunches waggling his tail excitedly behind him.

My wind was buzzing with endless possibilities those few words brought. I could not comprehend what was happening. It all seemed so fast. Just yesterday I had been starving in the freezing streets and now, I was being offered a home, more food than I could believe, two caring guardians and a pet above all! It seemed too good to be true. The offer was incredibly appealing.

And yet I found myself hesitating. The thought of being taken in by complete strangers in an unknown town scared me to no end. Could I really do it? It was not like I would have to change my lifestyle, I was always the odd one out, always had been whether it was within my family or the people my parents associated themselves with. I would fit right in here though. No high expectations from my parents, no lying to their colleagues and friends, no petty jealousy. It sounded perfect. My eight year old imagination got away with me and I was instantly taken away to a place where I would live with Bill, Nanny Anne and Jimmy. A family_. _

I smiled at the two adults watching me carefully. "Where did you say we live?"

Nanny Anne and Bill both grinned at my use of plurality. "Welcome to Ottery St. Catchpole."


	2. Cupcakes and Apples

**Thank you to all my new followers!**

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2\. Cupcakes and Apples

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"Goodbye Ella, don't be shy now, come around and play with Jonathan whenever you feel like."

"Thank you Mrs Pike, I'll try and visit soon."

At last, the remaining guests had finally left. All night the house was filled with families from the village of Ottery St. Catchpole after hearing of the appearance of the 'mysterious new girl'. The small village hardly had any exciting happenings and with the tight knit community, the rumour spread quickly and Nanny Anne and Bill were catering for a full house of people in no time.

After being accepted into the household of my new carers, Bill and Jimmy led me around the village despite Nanny Anne's protest for me to stay indoors for my health – I had only just returned to a somewhat average temperature. He showed me their paper shop first as it was adjacent to their – _our – _home. While he organised the stock, I was left to roam around the shop floor. The knick-knacks on the counter caught my attention and I spent most of my time analysing them. There were key rings showing sceneries of hills and foreign beaches, tiny packets of sweets, nuts and dried fruit, an array of colourful threads, yo-yos and a few packs of cards.

Bill then showed me through the market as he had to pick up a few items needed for lunch and dinner. Not many people were out and almost the entire street was barren of stalls due to the thick layer of snow splayed out from the storm. All the while Bill would be talking about the village and its occupants. I had found out my new home was now in Devon, a fact which did not surprise me as much it would have if it were not for the fact that I had been staying with my family at their holiday cottage in Somerset at the time, as opposed to our everyday London home.

Jimmy was constantly by my side, leading me this way and that, as if chaperoning me himself. The sweet dog didn't hesitate to pull me along to his favourite spots, one of them being a large tree at the bottom of Stoatshead Hill – a sign by the hill said. As I was about to venture further up the hill to discover the wonders of the village beyond (I could have sworn I heard a running stream close by), Bill had called out that we should be heading back.

Upon returning _home_, we were greeted with several cheerful faces much to my dismay. More people arrived late into the night and, for once, I felt a deep sense of loneliness surrounded by crowds of strangers. Nanny Anne and Bill were swept away, busy attending to the needs of the guests and Jimmy was being hassled by several children. This left me alone to deal with the relentless questioning. Question after question. The feeling of immense panic crept onto me like hundreds of spiders crawling over my bare skin. It itched and prickled but I couldn't escape. Bill and Nanny Anne had been nice enough to make a cover story for me as I was still unwilling to share my story to them after breakfast, however I still found myself freezing up whenever asked. It was only when Nanny Anne entered the room and sought me out amongst the crowd, registering the look of frightfulness on my face that she huddled me into the confines of the kitchen where I was left with the sweet and savoury smells of her lush dinner.

And that was when I met Zoe. Zoe Brimble wobbled into the kitchen and fell unceremoniously onto her behind, giggling like a lunatic and letting out snorts every few seconds. Her laughter caused her to fall back onto the floor where she rolled over several times and banged her fists on the floor before – _finally_ – calming down enough to sit herself back up, red in the face splotched with tears. That was when she noticed me staring. She stood up and made her way towards me looking completely at ease, not at all embarrassed by how she was sprawled out on the floor in hysterics only moments before.

"I'm Zoe Brimble and I'm 10 years old. Dad says you're the new girl." Her greeting was so formal unlike any other child's. She stuck her hand out.

Zoe was a tall girl even for a ten year old. I had to stand to get a decent grip on her hand. After introducing myself for the umpteenth time that night, Zoe led me out of the kitchens and to a boy her age: Jonathan 'Nate' Pike. We spent the rest of the evening together finding out about each other's favourite hobbies and animals and childhood stories, until they all departed along with the rest of the guests, Nate leaving last with his mother as she was delightedly gushing over Johnny's new little friend, producing a bright red blush on his face.

I sighed, collapsing at the kitchen table as Jimmy too flopped down on his little bed in the corner.

"Ah, there you are, Ella. I hope you had a pleasant evening. I do apologise for the crowd though, not everyone normally visits all in one go like that so you won't go through it again I assure you," Nanny Anne said. She pulled on her yellow rubber gloves and began washing the cutlery in the sink.

I opted for a smile in return, my throat sore from all the talking I had to endure – or rather avoided. A yawn broke through my lips as Bill entered and sat himself opposite me.

"Enjoy y'rself girl?"

I smiled again, but all I wanted to do was huff and puff and sprawl myself out on my new bed. After all, I was immensely grateful for all they had done, and it had only been a day! I wasn't going to be rude and moan in frustration after I intruded in their home and their lives.

Despite this, Bill seemed to see through me and chuckled. "How 'bout a game of cards? You know how to play?" He pulled out a pack of cards from his pocket and removed the elastic holding them together.

"I've never played," I said.

"Ok, we'll start with somethin' simple."

Twenty five minutes later we were still sat at the kitchen table in a heated game of Go Fish after having the game explained to me well over four times. Bill was in the lead (although I was sure he was cheating; I could have sworn I had the three of hearts in my hand not two minutes ago) and our raised voices attracted the attention of Jimmy who trotted between us to get a good look at our cards. Nanny Anne had retreated to the living room once the dishes were all gleaming.

"Got any…fives?" I asked, glaring at my hand.

"Go Fish."

I slammed the cards down. "I give up! This game is stupid," I huffed.

Bill chuckled and gathered up the cards and shuffled them. "How 'bout somethin' a little harder, eh? Ever heard of blackjack?"

I shook my head. Nanny Anne bustled into the room as Bill began to deal out the cards. "Oh, no you don't. No teaching the girl how to gamble Bill." She grabbed the cards out of his hand and the cards on the table and put them in her cardigan pocket.

"Oh, come on love! I need to play with someone," Bill groaned.

"Not with a little girl you don't."

Nanny Anne sat down at the table. "Ella, love, did you make any new friends tonight?"

I nodded. I told her of Zoe Brimble, the tall, pretty brunette, and Jonathan Pike, the blushing blonde. She claimed they were lovely kids and was proud I got along with them, despite my arguing that Zoe did most of the talking while Nate and I just nodded and answered her questions. Zoe was different from the girls I once associated myself with. Yes, she was forward and rather blunt ("You have quite a long nose there Ella, reckon you can ring a doorbell with that?") but she was outgoing and honest and nice. While others had before taunted my slightly longer than average nose (it wasn't even that big! Honestly), she made it sound cool, as if everyone in the world should have a nose like mine. In all honesty, she was my first real friend.

Remembering the people I once called friends made me realise I would probably never see them again. This thought should have made me happy, but I felt somewhat disappointed. They were still my friends, albeit they were family friends first, so we had spent loads of time together, whether it was going out in the garden and swimming, or having sleepovers.

Just then I recalled seeing two mops of bright red hair sticking out amongst the crowd of children by Jimmy earlier in the night. Never before had I seen hair so fiery and wild. It seemed to call out to me, enticing me to get close like the light attracts moths (did I really just liken myself to a moth?). But just as soon as I saw it, they had gone. The red heads did not come to greet me as everyone else had, and no parents laid claim to having red haired children so I was left unaware as to who the mystery kids were.

"Well, it's good you've made some nice friends. You know, we'll have to enrol you in school soon, we don't want you lagging behind everyone else now," Nanny Anne said.

"School?" I asked.

"Yes, of course! There's only one school in town though so you should be ready after the holidays, which if I'm correct, ends on Monday, so you should be all set by Tuesday. Oh, you'll love it there Ella, the teachers are marvellous and you'll see a lot more of Zoe and Nate."

My mind was too tired to think anything of this and I felt another yawn bubbling up in my throat.

"Go on up to bed love, you look knackered," Nanny Anne said.

"I'm not tired," I insisted, failing to stifle the oncoming yawn.

"Well then Ella, how 'bout you tell us a bit 'bout yer family seemin' as yer not tired," Bill said, watching me, and I instantly regretted my decision to follow my excitement.

I froze. No. No, Bill I can't. I'm sorry. His words quelled my fatigue. Just thinking about what happened made my blood run cold.

"I-"

"Bill! Don't rush the poor girl. You know it can't be easy for her to talk about this," Nanny Anne snapped.

"Anne, we need to know. She's livin' under our roof, I think we have the right to know, don't you?" Bill said, still keeping his eyes on me.

"Bill, think reasonably-"

"I am, Anne!" His eyes darted to Nanny Anne. "We know nothin' of this li'l girl here. Yes, I see she's just a young girl, but you don' think that _they_ wouldn' stoop so low as to send a child to-"

"No, Bill! That's enough. I won't hear another word of this."

I was shaking at this point, eyes wide in fear. Bill had not let on that I was a burden to him; he made sure to make me feel welcome and was nothing but caring, if a bit awkward, since I awoke on their sofa. So why was he so mad?

"Anne. Please love. I know you're thinkin' the same, you jus' won't say it," Bill said in a much softer voice, though still firm.

"Ella, why don't you go on up to bed?" Nanny Anne said, ignoring her husband.

Unable to form a reply, I nodded swiftly and made my way up the stairs hurriedly. Jimmy did not follow.

Nightmarish thoughts swirled through my mind as I lay restless in bed. I was sure I had been lying in bed for hours now; I heard Nanny Anne and Bill retreat to bed a while ago. Bill's snored penetrated the air, broken every few moments with a grunt, as Nanny Anne prodded and pushed him to stop, I presumed.

Why was Bill so angry? He seemed to enjoy my company when we were playing cards. His little outburst made me feel unwanted – a feeling I was, unfortunately, already familiar with. I thought back to everything I'd done since I arrived but nothing I did seemed to make sense for him to snap. Maybe he just didn't want me. Maybe I was just a burden to everyone.

* * *

Jimmy and I raced towards the bakery and waited outside, Jimmy barking for Nanny Anne to hurry her pace. The smell of fresh bread and cakes wafted down the street and I could not resist ogling at the display through the window, shielding my eyes from the glare of the sun on the window.

"Oh, keep your fur down Jim, I'm here now, I'm here, down boy," Nanny Anne chuckled as she reached the bakery.

"Come on Nanny!" I grabbed her hand and dragged her in, the bell tinkling above the door as we entered, leaving Jimmy outside.

It had been almost a month since Bill's outburst and we hadn't spent much time together since. Almost all of our encounters went by speechless apart from the occasional "hello" and "have a nice day". He always kept a wary eye on me, monitoring my every move. I had begun to think him paranoid. The atmosphere was always awkward when it was just us – something Nanny Anne made sure to prevent as much as she could – and not once did he bring up my family again. I was glad he had not probed me any further but I knew I would have to open up to them soon; even Nanny Anne began to show signs of discomfort with her lack of knowledge. Her eyes would linger on me for longer than usual and she would fidget whenever I mentioned change from my old life.

I avoided thinking of my family at all costs. After all, they were not my family anymore. It had taken me a long time to get used to that idea and the tension around Bill, the father figure in my new 'family' did not help to make me adjust to the sudden change. In all honesty, I missed the cuddles and kisses from my parents and sister. I missed playing with my aunt's pets, and hide and seek with my friends in their large houses.

But that was my old life. I had to move on.

"Hello Imogen," Nanny Anne greeted the baker.

"Oh, hello there Anne, Ella," the woman, Imogen, greeted. She was a young woman, newly married with a contagious glowing smile.

"Hi Immy."

"How about a little cupcake?" she asked. I grinned and nodded. Ever since I first came to the bakery it became customary for Imogen to offer me her famous chocolate fudge cupcake – my favourite.

Imogen passed me the large cupcake – or rather muffin by the size of it – and winked as I took a great big bite.

"What'll it be today, Anne?" Imogen asked, turning her attention to Nanny Anne.

"The usual please: a loaf of your oat seeded bread and some of your…"

I tuned out Nanny Anne's order as I ate the gooey cupcake. I peered out the window to see Jimmy wagging the remnants of snow with his tail and nosing the lamppost.

"Ella dear, you go on out with Jimmy, seems we'll be here while," Nanny Anne said as Imogen retreated to the back.

"Ok."

I left the toasty bakery and sat on the bench outside, Jimmy trotting over as soon as he saw me. He flicked his tongue out towards my cupcake.

"Uh-uh! No you don't Jimbo, you know Nanny Anne doesn't like it when you nibble on cakes. And besides, you know only people can have chocolate," I chastised Jimmy, bringing my free hand up against his face and moving the cupcake away behind me.

"Oh, don't mind if I do then."

In an instant the cupcake vanished from behind me.

"Hey!" I turned quickly and saw a face grinning at me. I put my hands on my hips. "That's my cupcake."

He looked at the cupcake, as if observing it, turning it at all angles to get a decent look before taking a great big bite with his eyes closed. "Mmm, and what a good cupcake it is! Very delicious." He licked his lips.

"Oi! Stop eating my cake," I reached out for the cupcake as he took another bite, moaning noises of approval. He leaned back out of my reach.

"Buh ish sho goof!" He gushed.

"Jimmy!" I yelled, annoyed at the boy, now nibbling the almost finished cake.

With no response from the dog in the seconds that passed, I looked back to see him sitting back on his haunches with his head tilted, amused.

"Fat lot of good you are," I mumbled.

A whistle from behind me caught Jimmy's attention and he immediately trotted over to the source – the greedy cupcake thief. He crouched down and began petting Jimmy, the dog stretching and posing in appreciation.

"Traitor," I huffed.

"Nice dog you have here, what's its name?" the boy asked without looking up.

"Jimmy," I answered.

"Hello Jimmy, you're a good boy aren't you? Your friend there is such a meanie though, isn't she boy?" he cooed. Jimmy barked in response.

"Hey! Stop turning my dog against me," I said. I strode towards him and planted my hands on my hips again. "Where's my cupcake?"

He smirked. Instead of replying, he winked and patted his flat stomach. My eyes narrowed down at him. "You didn't."

He winked again.

I began to grow frustrated as Jimmy lapped up the boy's attention. "Jimmy, come here boy," I called, bending down slightly and putting my hands on my knees. No way was this boy going to knick my cupcake _and _turn my own dog against me.

But he ignored me.

"_Jimmy._ Here boy, there's a yummy treat for you back home."

Again, nothing.

"Come on Jimbo, you don't want to be with the mean boy, you could get germs from him."

"Oi!" the boy said looking affronted, although the slight twitching of his lips gave him away.

After a few more tries of getting Jimmy's attention I gave up.

"Well fine then! Stick with the ginger, you traitor," I said, flinging my arms up in the air and moving to sit on the vacated bench like a petulant child, feeling it appropriate.

Instead of watching the affectionate display between boy and dog, I turned my gaze to stare at a patch of snow, murky and grey from the trampling of feet it had endured. I only flickered my eyes upon the two when I heard him chuckling and Jimmy barking, only to see him looking back at me with that stupid smirk in place accompanied with a wink. This happened a few times before I looked towards the white sky, adamantly ignoring them.

"Jimmy's great, very loyal indeed," his voice was right next to me, making me jump. He somehow managed to sit beside me on the bench without making any noise – or was I just really zoned out? – With Jimmy now lying by our feet.

I eyed the boy. "Thanks."

"George," he stuck his hand out and winked again.

"Do you have a problem with your eye? It's twitching an awful lot, maybe you should get it looked at," I smirked. But to my surprise he smirked back. And winked again.

"It does that when I see a pretty girl," he said, followed by an exaggerated wink.

My face scrunched at his comment, although inside, my little eight year old self flushed at the compliment in spite of who it was coming from. Determined not to reveal myself, I scoffed.

"Still, I think it needs looking at. You look terrible," I smiled at his insulted expression.

"Terrible? _Me?_ Oh, no, I do believe it is you who needs their eyes testing."

I saw his still outstretched hand and bit my lip.

"Ella," I said and shook his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you Ella!"

"Likewise."

"So, Ella. I haven't seen you 'round before." George leaned back on his elbows.

"Oh, didn't you know? I'm the new girl." It was shocking to hear that he didn't know; by now everyone in the town knew who I was and made a point of talking to me whenever possible. "Wait, you were at my house."

Of course! His bright red fiery hair should have alerted me straight away. He was one of the red heads at my welcoming party. Up close his hair was even more wild and vibrant. His eyes were the brightest blue and they seemed to have a sparkle to them, and his face was adorned with hundreds of freckles.

"Aha! Yes, I remember you!" I exclaimed, pointing my finger in his face.

"Er- when was this?" he asked sheepishly.

"About a month ago."

"Umm…a month ago…a month ago- Oh yes! I remember now," his face returned to normal after being furrowed in deep concentration. "Sorry for not saying hello, only had enough time to pop in for a minute. Should've realised it was you when I saw little Jimbo here."

Said dog let out a bark upon hearing his name.

"It's fine, I had a massive headache after repeating myself over and over and _over _again to everyone. I must say it was quite nice not speaking to everyone, made you more mysterious," I instantly regretted my words at the mischievous smirk George displayed.

"Mysterious, eh? That's my middle name!"

"Your parents must hate you."

He frowned in obvious contemplation behind the meaning of my words.

"The stall's open, I'm hungry." I jumped up and ran to the stall opposite the street. The apples were the best at this stall, so juicy and crisp and sweet. My mouth began to salivate just from the thought of it.

"Hello, Mr Dicks," I smiled to the old man at the stall.

George snorted from behind me.

"Don't be rude, there's nothing wrong with Dicks," George sniggered, "For all I know you have an even worse surname," I hissed under my breath so Mr Dicks wouldn't hear.

"Hello little Ella, another apple today?" the stall owner grinned, his bushy grey moustache covering half his face and revealing his cracked yellow teeth.

I nodded. "The red one as usual please."

"And how 'bout you mister? You like an apple?"

George fiddled around in his pockets, the sound of coins jiggling filling the air before he took out a handful and counted through them.

"Sorry, I don't think I'll have enough. I still have to get mum's stuff."

"Two apples please," I said to Mr Dicks.

"No, no Ella, it's fine, really-"

"I'm offering, George. It's no problem."

George grabbed my arm and looked at me unsurely as I was reaching my hand out to take the apples. I smiled in response. After another moment's hesitation George let go and looked to Mr Dicks. "I'll have a green one then."

The old man nodded and exchanged one red apple for a green one and handed them to us.

"Thank you sir," I waved, walking across the street and back towards the bakery.

"Cheers," George said, both to me and Mr Dicks.

We ate our apples in silence on the bench. I found myself eyeing his green fruit and eventually asked: "How can you like green apples?"

"'Cos they're good," George said.

"But the red ones are better."

"No they're not," George snorted. "Everyone knows the green ones are _way_ better."

"_No,_ the red ones are the best. They're sweeter and juicier-"

"But the green ones are more sweet and juicy, and just overall nice."

I glared at him. He winked again.

"Whatever," I mumbled.

A sudden chill in the air bought Jimmy shuffling closer to us, cuddling me in his fur to keep me warm.

"I should be going now, mum needed a load of things and I haven't even started." George shot up from his seat and tightened the scarf around his neck. "Well, I'm off. Nice to meet you-"

I smiled.

"-Jimmy."

The smile fell and tightened into a line, accompanied by a glare.

"Just kidding," he chuckled. "Nice to meet you Ella."

"Whatever."

Nanny Anne came out of the bakery just as George jogged down the road, the warm smells drifting out of the shop and surrounding the air, instantly reminding me of my cupcake.

"It's Weasley!" George called out. I looked at him blankly. "My surname. It's Weasley."

And then he was gone.


	3. Secrets are Hard to Keep

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* * *

3\. Secrets are hard to keep

* * *

Just over a month into joining the little school in Ottery St. Catchpole, I came to the conclusion that I hated school. It was not that the subjects were bad; they were probably the things I enjoyed the most aside from spending time with my friends. Zoe and Nate made school slightly bearable by being with me as often as they could, which mainly consisted of break and lunch time as they were two years older, so I was not in the same class as them. No, it was the students.

The children in my class were atrocious. The majority of them were noisy and whiny and spoilt, thus ruining the learning I tried to engage in – I mean, who would not find the history of pharaohs and pyramids and the funny text of hieroglyphics interesting? Being a mini adult, as Nanny Anne so often referred to me as, I did not get on with anyone my age. I was frequently seen glowering at the whinging children who did not want to use their brains in a simple exercise such as adding two single digits together; something which did not do me any favours among the students. It was shocking how a few individuals could ruin the entire experience of school.

Ever since my encounter with George outside Imogen's Bakery two weeks ago, I had made sure to keep an eye out for his bright head of hair in school, but I never saw him. It crossed my mind that it was possible for him to be in another year group, but the school was so small I should have encountered him in the playground at least once, where all the students congregated at break and lunch times. Even out in the village there was no sign of him. He seemed to have just disappeared.

It was lunch time and I sat in the lunch hall with Zoe and Nate, nibbling on the chicken sandwich Nanny Anne packed for me using the previous night's dinner, before turning to my two friends.

"And then fat Mrs- sorry- _Ms_ Crankshaw, the cranky old cow, had the _audacity_ to-"

"Is there a George Weasley in the school?" I asked, cutting off Zoe from retelling the story of her teacher yelling out at her in class for interrupting Andrew 'Bogey' Smith, the slowest boy in the entire school in terms of brain power, as he tried to read out an extract from Shakespeare's 'A Midsummers Night Dream'. He barely made it through the first paragraph before Zoe got annoyed and requested the teacher to change readers.

"A what?" Zoe blinked.

"George Weasley. Do you know him? Does he come here?"

"Never heard of the weasel thing," Zoe replied, sipping her orange juice in a plastic green cup. Just as she realised I had met someone in the village whom she did not know of, she snapped her head up. "Where did you meet him? What did he look like? Where does he live?"

"Calm down, Zo," Nate chuckled, obviously used to his best friend's erratic behaviour, "one question at a time, remember?"

"Oh, get lost," Zoe mumbled.

"Aren't you a ray of sunshine today," Nate teased.

"Well, if you didn't just hear what happened in class today, which, by the way, you should have because _you were right there_, then you'd know why."

"So, no George?" I interrupted before the two got into another one of their common famous spats.

Nate turned to me first. "Nope. Never heard of him."

A feeling of disappointment surged through me; I was hoping to have another friend in the rotten school. "Oh."

"So!" Zoe exclaimed, slapping her hands on the table and gaining the attention of the younger students nearby who looked on nervously. "Where did you meet him? When? How?"

I sighed. The rest of lunch was spent answering their – mainly Zoe's – questions on George. We moved out into the playground where the snow had now completely melted away and the beginnings of fresh green grass were starting to grow. Nate did not seem to be as bothered by the mystery boy as Zoe, so he stayed quiet most of the time.

We sat down at our usual spot: a bench in the little rotting gazebo at the top of the playground. I had just started to tell Zoe and Nate of the apple incident (how could _anyone_ like green apples and not red? Madness!), when large footsteps stomped on the wooden floor.

"Oh, looky who it is," the familiar stuffy drawl sung. "It's wittle Ella and her two buddies."

Prunella Trunchball. The meanest girl in school. With small beady eyes and blonde wiry hair that stood out like – what was her name? Medusa! She had taken it upon herself to make my school life an absolute misery the second she set her eyes on me. The stumpy freckly blonde would trip me up in the hallways, 'accidently' fling food at me, drench me in water if I happened to be near the drinking fountain and scribble on my skin in felt tip pens. After my first week in school, she had somehow circulated a song about me to all the year groups. I had never bothered to learn it; I tried not to let it get to me, especially when I had Zoe to threaten anyone who sang it.

"What do you want Prune-butt?" Zoe huffed. Apparently it was a great insult to add the word 'butt' at the end of a name. Prunella instantly fumed at the nickname, her face taking on the hue of a tomato.

"Buzz off Zoe Pimple-butt," again with the butt. "I was just wondering whether Smelly Ellie here was ready for our art lesson."

I internally groaned, remembering she was in my next class.

The bell rang suddenly. Time for lesson. A grin broke out on her face, warning me of impending trouble, then she strode away on her small thick legs to class.

"Well," I drawled, "this should be a fun hour. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

I hopped off the bench and waved to my friends, following Prunella's footsteps to our class.

* * *

Two hours I had scrubbed my arms for and the paint looked to almost be a second layer of skin. Prunella had taken it upon herself to sit herself beside me in class and paint on me rather than her card.

"Oh Ella, didn't we teach you better than that! You could've been the better person in this situation, but _no_, you decided to take it in your own hands rather than tell the teacher. I mean _honestly,_ she would've gotten into more trouble had you not bitten back."

Guilt gripped me as I recalled the afternoon's events. After Prunella had painted half my arm in a hideous orange and was about to brush some more paint into my hair, I grabbed the bottle of blue paint and squeezed it atop her head with a squelching _frrrp_. Her shrill shriek alerted the teacher to the mess and, with steam billowing out of her facial orifices, she instantly stormed over to us. We were both sent outside.

Needless to say I doubt Prunella will be bothering me anymore in art lessons.

"But Nanny Anne!" I cried, ready to defend my actions once again.

Nanny Anne scoffed, shaking her head and returned to the stove to stir her pot of stew. I sat at the kitchen table rubbing my now red arms to soothe them after the vigorous scrubbing they had undergone.

Bill was opposite me with a newspaper covering his face, but even so, after every futile attempt to get Nanny Anne to understand he would chuckle. A warmth spread through me every time he did, stomping the guilt out of me bit by bit. It was the closest I had felt to everything being normal since his outburst a couple of months ago. It felt good.

Jimmy bounded towards me and began licking my arm, growling softly in his chest.

"Oh, you're so cute when you're protective, Jimbo," I giggled, and stroked the top of his head.

Woof!

"He's been missin' yer durin' the day. Not used to yer not bein' home."

Bill's newspaper lay flat on the table as he sat back comfortably on his chair, watching me with the smallest, barely visible smile on his face. It was the first time he had said something to me other than "hello". Even Nanny Anne was shocked as she stopped cooking and stared at Bill, her eyes wide with joy.

"I've missed him too," I said.

Bill made a sound from the back of his throat and nodded before returning to his newspaper.

I beamed and looked at Nanny Anne. She too was smiling massively, no longer fazed by my retaliation.

"Ok, dinner's just about ready. Ella, set the table please love."

Dinner was a pleasant affair as Bill conversed to me as if we had never had a dispute. He asked me about school, all my lessons, and my friends. When he asked whether or not I was being picked on I gladly told him of Prunella Trunchball. He was angry at first at all the things she got away with, although he suspected there had been other situations similar to the paint scenario. But then I told him of the encounter that happened earlier in the day and he could not stop laughing. Nanny Anne could not even remove the smile from her face despite her disappointment over my temper besting me.

"Ooh-hoo, I'm proud of yer girl, that's some nerve you got. Great big ball-" Bill was hysterical, wiping the tears away from his eyes after seeing my impersonation of the Trunchball by squinting my eyes and poofing my cheeks out. He had not realised what he was saying. Or going to say.

"BILL!"

We were all stuck in a new fit of laughter after that. Even Jimmy joined with his barking laugh. The light bulb began flickering overhead but no one paid it any attention.

A deep sigh ended my laughter. Nanny Anne's laughter turned into small hiccups soon after, which gradually grew into great big hacking coughs.

Bill promptly sat up. "Love, you ok?"

He got up from his seat and hurriedly limped around the table to pat Nanny Anne's back. Her face had gone tomato red. I stared horrified. Surely a bit of laughter could not elicit such a horrific reaction? She did not even laugh as much as Bill and I. Was she even breathing?

With the aid of Bill patting her back and giving her room to breathe, Nanny Anne soon returned to normal. She took a few gulps of air before smiling shakily and patting Bill's hand in thanks. He gripped it back before standing to his full height.

"I've got a call to make," he moved to the fridge and pulled out the milk and sat it on the counter.

"Bill, it's fine, honestly, you don't need to-"

"Ella, make yer Nanny a cuppa. You'll be alrigh' with the kettle, won't yer?" Bill interrupted. I nodded slowly, vaguely recalling the process from the few times I watched Nanny Anne make it.

"Alrigh' then," Bill said and left quickly before Nanny Anne could object again.

Nanny Anne sighed. "That old fuss pot."

Without saying a word I got up and started on the tea. Standing up high on my toes, I reached up and skimmed my fingers over the nearest mug, sliding it closer towards me so it was easier to get a grip on. Grabbing the kettle and filling it with water, I stood in the middle of the kitchen glancing around the counters. Nanny Anne opened her eyes.

"We don't have an electric kettle, just pop it on the hob love."

I nodded and continued making the tea. The kettle whistled after a few moments and I poured it into the mug with a tea bag, followed by the milk. Once I finished stirring it I passed it over to Nanny Anne.

"Thank you darling."

We sat in silence for a while, Nanny Anne making small faces down at her mug from time to time.

Moments of worried silence passed, and then Nanny Anne spluttered on her tea and began coughing again. My eyes widened and a feeling of confusion and helplessness wash over me. Bill was so composed earlier when helping her whereas I had been frozen in my worry, clueless as to how he soothed her. My mind was blank.

"Bill!" I shouted before I realised what I was doing.

"No-" Nanny Anne wheezed before her coughs took over her voice again.

I jumped up from my seat and ran to the living room. "BILL!"

I skidded around the corner and through the archway. What I saw made my blood run cold, the all too familiar feeling of needles prickling me came crashing down full force.

Bill was hunched over on his knees on the floor, peering into the fireplace where it looked as if a face was imprinted in the fire. From my position I could just about hear a voice from the fire conversing with Bill. Their voices were hushed; apparently they were unaware of my presence.

"No," I gasped. No, this couldn't be happening. I was dreaming. No- a nightmare. This was a nightmare. The whole day never happened. I never asked Zoe and Nate about George Weasley. I never squirted paint on Prunella Trunchball. I never saw Nanny Anne get into a heavy coughing fit twice. And I definitely did not see Bill talk to someone in a fireplace without burning from the close contact with the flames. My new perfect family were no longer perfect. It was ruined.

Bill heard me. His head snapped up so hard and fast it was a shock his neck did not snap. From the corner of my eye I noticed the face in the fire also looked towards me but my eyes were riveted on Bill. His face transformed from one of confusion to one of utter anger in a flash.

"Ella."

His voice was so low I barely noticed he spoke. He shot up off the floor and moved his hand to his back.

Nanny Anne's intensifying coughs broke my transfixed state and I ran back into the kitchen. She looked even worse than before. Her face was no longer its usual creamy complexion, and nor was it the red hue she had adopted earlier. Now her face was a bright purple going onto blue.

"Nanny!" I cried, rushing to her side and patting her back similar to how Bill had done earlier.

"ANNE!" Bill lunged across the room, his limp completely disguised. He pushed me away, taking my place by Nanny Anne. "Come one, Anne, breathe for me love," he said. Bill rubbed her back roughly.

Bill's push had me on ground and I could not find the strength to move. Tears were streaming down my face as I feared for the worst. I prayed silently as I witnessed the scene before me. Oh God, please let Nanny be ok, please, oh please.

This went on for a while. Bill was softly whispering sweet words and instructions to Nanny Anne as I sat crumpled on the wooden floor, unable to tear my eyes away. The palms of my hands ached from the impact upon hitting the floor but I didn't care. It didn't matter.

Minutes passed and Nanny Anne, for the second time that day, slowly calmed herself and began to breathe again. Bill stayed by her side continuing to rub her back, making sure she was absolutely fine and her blue face reduced to its usual tone.

He took a deep breath and moved back slightly. He tilted his head back and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. As if suddenly realising what happened, he turned to me.

"You. Wha' did you see? Eh? Wha' were you doin'?" Bill began to stalk towards me but was stopped by Nanny Anne.

"Don't," was all her weak voice could manage. It seemed to snap Bill's attention back to her.

His voice went quiet. "Anne, I have to."

It was then I noticed he was holding something in his hand. He must have pulled it out as I ran out the living room. It was long and thin, with a wooden strip curled around it. It was thinner at the tip and thick where he held it. All over it was covered in intricate carvings. The only colour was the vine wrapped around it; it was a sparkly midnight blue that was barely noticeable, but gleamed in the light. The colour made it seem ethereal and magical, and it took every ounce of energy for me to take my eyes off it.

Bill and Nanny Anne were still having a low discussion, Nanny Anne looking weary and weak. In no time at all Bill nodded and rubbed his hand over her head.

Bill sighed. "You two go on inside, I'll bring yous a cuppa."

I got up on shaky legs and grabbed Nanny Anne's hand, helping her through the archway and into the living room. She sat down in her plush armchair while I made myself comfy on the pistachio green sofa. I watched the dwindling fires in the fireplace, the face no longer visible. We always opted to leave the lights off during the evening as it always seemed too harsh on the eyes, whereas the fire emitted a soothing radiance; its usual warm glow now casting an eerie ambience in the room.

My mind wandered to the nights events. Nanny Anne was ill – that was for sure. Very ill if her second episode accounted for anything. But what exactly was wrong with her? Was it serious? Could she be cured? And Bill…maybe I saw wrong? Perhaps my eyes were playing tricks on me. There was no way Bill was talking to someone in the fire without harming himself. I couldn't believe it. I _wouldn't _believe it.

Nanny Anne had her head tilted back against her armchair. The fire cast shadows to dance across her face, making her look far younger than she was. She looked so innocent and well. Her wrinkles seemed to disappear and her few freckles stood out. Despite her pudginess she had sharp cheekbones which just about poked out of her plump face.

Seconds later Bill appeared with two steaming mugs.

I accepted the smaller mug with a murmured thanks.

"Nngh," he grunted in reply.

"Cheers love," Nanny Anne said after being handed her mug.

We all sat in silence, just drinking our tea – hot chocolate in my case – with our thoughts being our only company. For the first time during the week my mind flitted to my parents and sister. What were they doing? How were they coping without me? Did they think of me often? At all? Would they be thinking where I was, or who I was with? Did they feel they did wrong; casting me out of their home? Were they guilty?

"Bill," I started. He didn't look up.

I continued to drink my hot chocolate. I hoped he had not heard me. I was not ready to say anything, but the silence was suffocating and I felt the need to break the silence.

"I'm sorry Ella," Bill said, his voice, although low, carried across the room. I looked up to see him looking back remorsefully.

"What…?" I said, confused. Why was he sorry? Why do I have so many questions tonight?

He drained his mug and placed it on the coffee table. He got up and, from his back pocket, pulled out his wooden stick again. Fear coursed through me and I instantly shot up.

"Bill," Nanny Anne said. Her voice took on a tone of pleading.

"I have to," he whispered, all of his previous anger now gone.

Nanny Anne sniffled. "Bill you don't have to. She can keep this quiet. Won't you dear? You didn't see anything did you love?"

My mind was jumbled with what seemed to be a million thoughts running through it, none which I could make sense of. Just then Jimmy entered the room and stood between me and Bill as if sensing the tension. He stood in a protective stance in front of me. But with his small figure Bill still had a clear watch on me.

"I'm sorry Ella, you won't remember this. Don't worry girl, you won't feel a thing."

He raised his hand again, aiming the stick to my head I blindly edged backwards away from Bill.

"Bill, you're scaring me," I breathed out. "Please, don't hurt me. I'm sorry, Bill, I didn't meant to, I swear, please Bill." I didn't realise I was crying. I was trembling so much. Not again. No. Bill wouldn't hurt me like that. Not like _he_ did before.

Bill opened his mouth and began to utter his incantation. "Daddy did that!" I shouted. Immediately he stopped and stared but he didn't lower his hand.

"What?"

The air crackled in silence. They both looked at me with unreadable expressions. I fidgeted under their stares.

Moments passed and still no one spoke. The fire had died down into small embers flickering, like the light bulb in the kitchen, refusing to give way and die.

What did I just tell them? Bill wasn't going to hurt me. He wouldn't. He helped me. Thinking back to when Bill poised the stick to me he didn't look as if he was going to hurt me. The moment of panic reminiscent to previous similar occasions caused me to spill. I had to tell them otherwise who knew what was going to happen to me. Mum and dad did it, so what was stopping Bill? I was nothing to him compared to being a daughter to my parents.

"Your daddy, who is he? What does he do?" Nanny Anne asked. "And tell the truth Ella. We need to know."

Bill limped over to his armchair and sat, keeping his eyes to the floor. Nanny Anne moved to the side and I slowly walked passed her onto the sofa while she followed.

"Mum and dad told me not to say. Said people aren't supposed to know about our type. But you used the _Floo_. Only we can use it. Daddy used it all the time with his friends. And Bill, you have a wand! You're a wizard!" I said, the words flowing out of my mouth all at once. I couldn't stop. Nanny Anne was watching me with a hint of a smile on her lips.

"So you know?" Nanny Anne beamed. "Oh dear, that's lovely! Oh my, fantastic news, just…amazing!" she let out a giggle. I couldn't help but let one escape as well. We were fine.

The tension was gone in an instant. My earlier worries evaporated. _Woof!_ Jimmy ran around the room.

But Bill was still quiet, his eyes fixed on the floor.

"Bill?" I asked.

He looked up. "Ella…"

I walked across the room and stood in front of Bill. He sat up and held my hands.

"Ella, I'm sorry girl, so sorry, I didn' know and I- I'm sorry love."

"You had no reason to know Bill, it's fine," I smiled and lunged at him in a hug. It took him a few seconds but he reciprocated.

"Bill?" I said, my voice slightly muffled from his jumper.

"Hmm?"

"Were you…what were you going to do?"

"I wasn't goin' to hurt you love, never _ever_ will I hurt you," his arms tightened around me before he released me altogether, allowing me to climb in his lap. "You know much magic?"

I shook my head, "Only the things mum and dad did."

"I was only goin' to alter yer memory so you would forget seein' me use the Floo," Bill said.

"What's that called?"

"Obliviate."

Jimmy lay on the rug in front of the slowly dying fire, tired from the day's activities.

"Tell us about your family," Nanny Anne said.

My eyes strayed to the floor. I might as well, there's nothing else to hide. They had just proved that they wouldn't hurt me. I could trust them.

"My mum and dad are wizards. They went to that big magical school in Scotland-"

"Hogwarts," Bill interrupted.

"-yeah, that one. Mum was in the clever house…oh, what was it called again- Ravencaw!" ("Raven_claw_, Ella," Bill corrected.) "And dad…dad was in Slytherin. All his family were."

Bill went silent. I continued.

"Him and mum wanted me to be in Slytherin when I was old enough to go Hogwarts. Said they would be so proud for me to continue the legacy," I stopped, unsure of how to continue.

Both Bill and Nanny Anne waited patiently for me to carry on. I took a deep breath.

"My little sister, Abigail, she's three years younger than me, so she's five. Mum and dad had been waiting ages for me to show my first signs of magic; they say it happens spontaneously from a young age," I paused. "I never did. Abi wanted a story before bed one night. So she conjured one. From her bed," another pause. My voice was almost muted, choked on the lump lodged in my throat. "She used magic before me. Mum noticed this, of course, and asked me whether I used magic when she wasn't in the room. I said no. I heard her telling dad, and that maybe I was just a bit slow, but it would come to me eventually.

"They waited a bit longer – a few days I think – before they confronted me. I'd never heard them yell so loud. They told me they had their suspicions all along but they wanted to be sure. They told me how I was dishonouring the family. How I wasn't good enough, that they were ashamed of me. They blamed me for not being the perfect Slytherin daughter. I didn't even understand what they were talking about. I mean, I was still their daughter.

"They kept calling me a stupid squib, shouting it whenever I didn't answer one of their questions. All I could do was cry. I cried so much over how I disappointed my parents and I begged them to tell me how to make it up to them. But being the _Slytherins_ that they were they wanted nothing to do with me. So they did the first thing they could think of," I spat, glaring down at my hands clenched in my lap. Bill saw and covered a fist with his large rough hand. "They got rid of me. Chucked me out of the house straight after without any spare clothes or food. I don't know how long I spent on the streets on my own before you found me. Our house elf was treated better than I was," my tears blurred my vision so much that I couldn't make anything out. The large droplets fell on Bill's hand but he made no move to wipe it.

"I hate them. Daddy hurt me," I managed to choke out through my tears before the sobs took over. "He hurt me Bill, he did the bad curse."

Bill promptly wrapped his arms around me and held me tight, allowing me to cry into his chest. Soon after another pair of arms wrapped around us. Bill shuffled over on the armchair and Nanny Anne squeezed in beside him.

"I'm a squib," I muttered.

That night we all fell asleep on Bill's armchair embracing each other. We awoke impossibly sore with aching limbs but we all laughed it off. Our secrets were out in the open and we had nothing to hide anymore. The weight that was loaded on my shoulders since waking up on the sofa was lifted, and I felt light and happy.

All morning we couldn't wipe the smiles off our faces. Even Bill's scowl never lasted long after remembering my admitting that my dad had purposely hurt me. We were just so happy. Jimmy jumped and danced around the house with me. School didn't bother me, especially since Prunella made the wise decision to keep her distance. My time spent in the paper shop with Bill was full of laughter, and Nanny Anne and I danced to the radio while cooking that evening (she decided to teach me how to cook and make tea).

We were a real family now.


	4. Home

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* * *

4\. Of Birthdays and Secrets

* * *

Life after my confession was perfect.

Outside of school, now completely undisturbed by one Prunella Trunchball, I was able to spend my time freely with my carers. Nanny Anne kept me in the kitchen as often as she could, teaching me the wondrous secrets to her recipes and, most importantly, how to brew the perfect cuppa. The first time I removed the teabag without her reminding me, she squealed up until the point she was almost crying, ignoring the fact that my milk to water ratio was vastly off.

Bill was far more relaxed in that he allowed me to roam the village with Jimmy whenever I was supposed to be minding the paper shop with him. "Business is slow", he would say in response to my questioning gaze, "your soul's far too energetic and wild to be locked up inside with an old bear."

Not once did I complain.

I had not seen George in the time that followed my confession, but I was too full of this new unfamiliar joy to care. I was relishing in the feel of warm tingles when surrounded by my new family and friends. Zoe and Nate occupied a lot of my time, they even ventured spending many afternoons in my home. They grew so close to Nanny Anne and Bill that they became like a pair of surrogate children to them, coming in whenever they pleased and exchanging pleasantries (Zoe's greeting to Bill always went along the lines of, "Hello there grizzly ol' bear, nice to see you haven't mauled Ella dearest yet.").

But, as every child does, I only focused on the sunny side and did not once dwell on the darkness. Because everyone knows, perfection never lasts long, if ever at all; we merely mask the horrors and shroud it in bright colours and glitter.

But a colourful monster does not remove its evil.

Nanny Anne's health was deteriorating by the day. She could barely stand for ten minutes – maybe less – before succumbing to a heavy coughing fit. Her physical health was also failing. She needed aid in a lot of areas she never needed before. Hanging the washing was no longer an option for her; the stretching to peg the clothes on the line hurt her ribs. Bill's pestering was wearing her thin, her constant need for independence in the domestic chores were being hounded upon and she did not appreciate it.

My nightmares returned in full force, the ones that haunted my days before being taken in by Nanny Anne and Bill. In these nightmares I was always trapped in a dark corner, surrounded by the sinister laugh I had encountered once before. It was imbedded in my mind, never to be forgotten, as if one day it would return and I would recognise it instantly, the laugh beckoning me over despite the chills it triggered down my spine. But I never could put a face to the laugh. I had never seen the man behind the laugh, so my mind, instead, drowned me in darkness. Why not brightness? When I was in such harmony myself, why couldn't my mind reflect this in my sleep? It was if my subconscious was reminding me of my origin.

Evenings were spent questioning each other on our pasts. That night was never directly mentioned, we always skirted around it. I did not have much to say, and when I could, I barely did. It was not as if I did not trust them – on the contrary, I did not want them to focus on that, I wanted us to move on, chase the sunset into the horizon so we would always be in the light.

I found out that Nanny Anne, unlike Bill, was a muggle. Her and Bill had fallen in love when he was on a mission for the Ministry of Magic, but because of the dark times with prejudices still running high, he took desperate measures to keep her safe: he quit magic, so as not to be found, and they hid. And where else but in the wonderful muggle village of Ottery St Catchpole where they still resided. Of course, he still used magic occasionally.

One night, Bill informed me of everything.

He told me that he used the Floo to keep in touch with other wizards, so he was kept updated on life on their side of the wall. During his explanation, he had a wistful glaze to his eyes. He missed his magical life. He mentioned that he always offered his assistance when needed, just to be involved in the action once again without actually jumping in himself. He couldn't risk endangering Anne's life by his own recklessness.

Not only Anne's, but the child they were planning to have. For months, when the threat of an attack was so slim it could barely even be considered, they tried. Bill was more hopeful than Anne and visited shops to see the Babygro's and cribs whenever he could. Every night he would dream of a tiny bundle wrapped in his or Nanny Anne's arms, so fragile that even a wisp of a finger on their cheek would seem hazardous.

Bill's face transformed during his story. We were all sat in our designated spaces around the living room, Jimmy lying beside me on the couch. Bill gazed deep into the fire, as if the dancing flames were re-enacting his tale, his lips tilted up ever so slightly showing a hint of a smile. And then he turned sombre.

The news came that they could not have children. Either Bill's biology wasn't fit enough or Nanny Anne's body rejected it, they never found out. And they never dwelled on it. But it took them years to recover.

The Floo was how he knew of the dark lord's rise. Once word got out that Voldemort was up and hunting, Bill deactivated his Floo altogether, his last way of communicating with his magical brothers and sisters, and remained anxious in the dark, the shadows teasing and taunting the blood traitor. Bill had every right to be scared; he had committed the most heinous crime possible in the eyes of those who lionised the pureblood mania. He had fallen in love with a muggle. He married a muggle.

Bill had stopped talking then. I was too mesmerised by the tale and trying to keep every single detail fixed into my mind that I hadn't noticed. It wasn't until Bill slammed his hand on the table and suggested we go out to eat that I realised he didn't want to think back on the past anymore.

Finding out about the gruelling events Nanny Anne and Bill suffered through brought us even closer together. Bill, on the other hand, was found distancing himself sometimes. Maybe it was the thought that they were denied the ability to have children of their own that he perhaps, resented me. Thought of me as some sort of a pity replacement. But if that was the case, he never showed it. And I admired him greatly.

Bill was finally fed up with worry on Nanny Anne's intense coughing that he decided to take her to the doctors, after much nagging and pleading and dealing with her. I was left to watch the paper shop with Jimmy.

The twenty minutes I had been there were boring. Not one customer. The entire village was out wandering the streets and shopping on the somewhat sunny spring Saturday, yet none even glanced our way. Even Jimmy had thumped to the floor as there was nothing to be done.

"This is so boring!" I yelled, although the sound was muffled into my folded arms.

Jimmy whined in response.

Just as I was contemplating jumping off the counter and cannon-balling onto some cushions, a distraction swaggered by outside the window in the form of a familiar shade of red.

"Jimmy! Look, there's George!"

Grabbing the key off the counter, I ran across the shop, Jimmy hot on my heels. After locking the door I tip toed as high as I could to catch a glimpse of that red head against the multitude of browns and blondes.

"George!" I yelled once I saw him. He didn't even flinch.

I tried again. "_George!_" He was getting further away now. I squeezed through the crowd and made my way to the side of the street where I could run more easily.

"George!" He was looking around him now. He looked left and right and even peered up ahead of him, but he didn't look back. "GEORGE! Westley! Er- no…Whitcombe? No, no, umm…Weasel..." I was mumbling to myself now.

My desperation to see George was overpowering. I didn't think I had missed him much what with everything going on. I was so caught up in my nightmares, Nanny Anne's increasing illness, and the past in general, that I found myself craving the cheerfulness that oozed out of George. It came naturally to him.

Only a few people were separating us now. Jimmy ran ahead of me and reached George, seizing his attention. George stopped walking and crouched down.

"GEORGE WEASLEY!"

His head snapped up and he caught my eye. A wide grin spread across his face. I stopped in front of them and bent over, hands on my knees to catch my breath.

George opened his mouth but I held up a finger, to which he closed it again and smirked, quirking an eyebrow.

Seconds later, which, in all honesty, could have been minutes, I stood up to my full height and smiled down at the still crouching George. "Hi there again."

"Why, hello," he smiled.

"Good boy Jimmy, thanks for stopping him. Phew, that was tiring. You could've stopped earlier y'know George. I wouldn't be so tired if you didn't."

George stood up and peered over my head. "You mean that shop a few doors down? Of course, very long indeed. Your poor little legs must've suffered greatly."

I frowned and turned to where he was looking. My mouth dropped. It was true. "What! You mean I ran three shops down! You're kidding me. But it seemed so long."

He laughed at my pout. "Don't worry darling, I'm sure it was terrible running through all those people."

I scrunched my nose at him. "Why did you call me that?"

"What, 'darling'?" he asked.

"Yes, 'darling'," I mimicked, shivering at the word as if it sickened me.

"Oh, it's what my brother calls his friend. She's a girl too. I thought it was normal," he rubbed his ear.

"Oh."

"Yep."

"Well don't, it's what Nanny Anne calls me. Makes me feel like a baby. Just call me Ella, no nicknames."

He chuckled. "But nicknames are fun! Ella's so boring."

I gasped. "No it's not! George is definitely way more boring. And besides, there was a princess named Ella."

"Oh yeah, and who told you that?"

"Nanny Anne. Well…her name was sort of Ella. It was Cinderella…and yes that counts!"

"Pfft, I beg to differ, _darling._" He winked that obnoxious, arrogant wink. God, I did not miss that.

I closed my eyes and let out a few deep breaths before opening them again. I smiled. "So I never see you in school. Don't you go?"

"Aw, you look for me in school? How sweet of you!" He chuckled when I slapped his arm. "No, I don't. Mum home schools us. Has done for all of us."

We began walking aimlessly through the street.

"Oh. So, how many of you Weasley's are there?" I asked.

He grinned. "Seven."

Once again, my mouth fell open and my eyes bugged out of my head. "Seven…?" I mouthed.

"Yup. There's Bill, the oldest-"

"My da-" my breath caught and I faltered to correct myself, "My uncle's called Bill."

"-yeah, how nice, after Bill there's Charlie, they're the coolest, then Percy the pompous prat," I sniggered at his description, "then Fred, and yours truly, George Fabian Weasley, the best one, followed by wittle Ron and then baby Ginny. But she's not actually a baby, just the baby of the family."

I was speechless. "Wow," was all I managed as I pictured the large family of red heads. Poor Ginny, the only girl (and the youngest for that as well!) having to put up with the testosterone filled house of boisterous boys.

"Yup."

We were greeted with the luscious scent of fresh bread and sweet cakes, and I looked up to see the familiar sign of Imogen's Bakery. I rushed inside, Jimmy stopping at his usual spot by the bench.

"Hello Immy," I greeted the baker.

"Hello there Ella," Immy smiled. "Who's your friend there?"

I raised my hand to George. "This here's George. George, Immy the best baker ever. She's the one who gave me the cupcake which you _stole_," I glowered at him, recalling the last time we met.

He chuckled, "Nice to meet you Immy. And may I say, what a splendid cupcake that was."

"Kiss up," I murmured, only to be elbowed in the arm by George.

"Why thank you George. But if you ever want one, you come straight here now, no more stealing," Immy wagged her finger. But she couldn't have looked mean if she was the boogeyman himself.

"Understood," he saluted.

I beamed up at Immy, "So, lovely Immy, with her fantastic, absolutely _amazing_ baking skill-"

Before I could finish my sentence she rolled her eyes and held her hands out to us, a cupcake in each hand. We snatched them up quickly. "Thanks Immy," I called, running out.

"Cheers," George yelled as he followed me.

"So Georgie-" I swallowed the lump of cupcake in my mouth.

"-It's _George._"

"-How old are you?" I asked.

"Nine. Ten in a couple of weeks," he puffed his chest out. I poked him in the side and he recoiled with a wince. "What about you?"

"Eight. Nine in about…" I counted on my fingers and gasped when I realised, "Oh! Only in five days."

George stopped rubbing his side and his mock pout was replaced by a large smile. "Really? What are you going to do?"

I shrugged, "Probably nothing. Nanny Anne's not feeling too well and I don't want to trouble her. Maybe invite my friends around, eat cake," I waved my hand behind me to Imogen's Bakery. "I'm not really excited. What about yours?"

It was a fat lie. I used to love birthdays. My sister would always wake me up by jumping on my bed, screaming 'Happy Birthday' until her throat could handle no more. Breakfast was never a completely pleasant affair. Requesting pancakes with the picture perfect face of innocence, my mother would tighten her lips and shake her head, putting forward a plate of fruit or a bowl of cereal, saying how I would eat twice my fill later. The day would be spent at some fancy outing, whether it be a beach near the Somerset holiday home, a zoo or a shopping trip – the one thing I could do without. Dad would've been busy throughout the day organising the birthday ball that was to occur in the evening – another thing I despised. But before that, presents!

"Party with the Weasley's, what else?" George said. "Bill and Charlie go to a boarding school in Scotland, so they won't be here which ruins it slightly. But Fred and I will be the life of the party."

We sat down on the bench. "What do you normally do?"

He shoved the half of the cupcake left in his mouth, leaving remnants hanging off around his mouth and chin and a slight smudge of cream on his nose. "Mum goes all out for meals, makes our favourites. We play a bit in the garden and field, feed the chickens-"

"-you have chickens!" my voice came out more shrill than I would have liked. George just gave me a look that clearly said what-on-god's-green-and-blue-earth-is-wrong-with-you.

"Yeah…anyway, we do that, then presents and…that's about it I guess. We just spend time together and dance, and party, and eat. Oh, and Fred and I play pranks."

"Oh, I bet your mum hates that." I know mine would.

He laughed. "You have no idea."

The afternoon was spent with George regaling me with stories of past pranks and birthdays. Every memory was told in such detail I was sure that if I closed my eyes I could picture it vividly, as if being there and witnessing it for myself. The family of red heads gathered around the cramped table, tearing the wrapping off presents and getting just what you wanted, stuffing yourself at every meal just because you enjoyed it immensely, blowing the candles off the cake with all your siblings, slapping the cake in each other's faces (a lifelong dream of mine), the firework show at the end of the night after a day of mischief and love…

And just for a second, I imagined myself being in George's position.

* * *

Nanny Anne and Bill sat on the sofa together, both wearing grim expressions. I placed their tea on the table and sat on the armchair opposite.

I waited with baited breath for them to speak.

Upon returning home from the doctors, the two returned to their daily jobs, Nanny Anne escaping to the kitchen and Bill mumbling about checking on the shop. Neither had spoken much during dinner, nor did they look at each other, much less me. I didn't ask what was wrong, sure that they would say when they were ready. After all, it was indoctrinated in me from a young age not to question my elders if they were not keen in sharing information. Maybe they were tired, I kept telling myself. But they would have said something.

The silence dragged on, so much so that it became deafening. Could it be that no sound at all can cause the mind to suffocate just as much, or maybe more than, a barrage of noise? Well, whatever the odds it was for me. And I couldn't handle it another second…

"Ella, why don't you go on up to bed love," Nanny Anne smiled sweetly at me.

I blinked. Were they not going to tell me? There was blatantly something wrong. But I couldn't force them to say. I nodded and offered a smile back. Giving them each a kiss on the cheek, I went up to bed, pondering the probable concerns.

* * *

Awaking on the 20th March was different than I thought it would be. No familiar sinking of the bed to alert me to Abigail's presence, her shaking me and rolling around trying to rouse me from my bed. No dancing to some band she adored.

But what I did wake up to was another nightmare. The same one with the ominous laughter. But this time there was something else. A snake. A large snake, slithering in front of me, barely noticeable in the darkness but so close that its eyes glowed and emitted a green light. It did nothing, just stared back.

I shivered upon thinking back on the sense of foreboding the snake seemed to bring.

I saw George again a few days after our catch up outside Imogen's Bakery. He came into the paper shop seeking me out just to promise me that he'd try to visit on my birthday. He said he was busy, what with his home schooling and his trying to get out with his mum's permission (in other words, sneaking out). Apparently his mum only ever let them venture into the town to get supplies from the shops. I thought she must've been worried about the influence her kids – ahem, _George_ – would have on the other kids. From what I'd gathered through his stories, he was terribly persistent in teasing others and pranking until he laughed his throat hoarse.

"Mornin' Nanny," I said around the yawn breaking through, and sat myself down at the table, the smell of breakfast clearing my mind.

"Good morning Ella, have a nice sleep?"

I nodded. My eyes widened in surprise when Nanny Anne placed my breakfast in front of me. There, on the table, sat a plate stacked up high with steaming pancakes, smothered in the chocolate sauce and sugar and lemon juice with a lone candle sticking out. My mouth salivated as I sat transfixed, my gaze not unwavering.

Nanny Anne chuckled. "You'd better start eating before it gets cold love."

And so I dived in, briefly halting to blow out the candle. Best birthday breakfast ever.

Bill limped into the room and threw a glance my way. "Damn, girl got started before me. Oi, don't you be eatin' all them pancakes now girl, leave some for ol' bear."

But I barely heard him, too busy shoving mouthful after mouthful of pancakes into my gob. My jaw began to ache from the incessant chewing and I could vaguely feel sauce dripping down my chin.

Bill and Nanny Anne began saying something else to me but I wasn't paying any attention. God, these pancakes were good.

"Hey! Thanks for waiting Ella-butt."

The familiar chastise did not distract me from my breakfast. I muttered a, "sorry," through my chewing, causing Bill to laugh. Zoe sat at the table and frowned at me before digging into her own plate of pancakes with as much fervour as me.

"Oh, my dear sweet god that was glorious. Nanny Anne, you outdid yourself, I applaud you," I huffed, clapping to Nanny Anne who curtsied. Zoe joined in eagerly.

She then leaped on me with so much force my chair fell back, taking us both with it. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY ELLA!" she screamed into my ear.

From my position underneath her I could not do much but try and push her off. "Ge'roff Zo, I'm dying here."

"Sure, sure whatever," she said and stood up. "Oh, hello there Jimmy! I didn't see you there, sleeping in your wittle bed…" she continued to coo to Jimmy, leaving me on the floor with my arms outstretched. Well, rude.

"Where's Nate?" I asked.

"He's busy with his mum, I think she wants to come as well and he's trying his hardest to tell her to bugger off- sorry Nanny Anne," she said.

I grimaced. "Oh, please no Mrs Pike. I don't think I can handle her today."

Mrs Pike was an overly affectionate woman, the type who squished your cheeks and printed a stain of her bright red lipstick on your skin like that aunt no one liked and was slightly senile. Lovely, but mad.

"Let's hope Nate gets her claws away from him," Bill mumbled. Zoe and I giggled. It was no secret that Mrs Pike had been promiscuous in her time, and her habits did not die along with her husband (his death a muddling puzzle which no one was clear on and dared not ask). She flirted with every male she saw fit, Bill included.

"At least I know my man's still got it," Nanny Anne sung from her seat. Bill spluttered on his tea and it spilled all over his front.

Zoe and I dissolved into fits of laughter.

* * *

"Come on Ella, Nate, we're going to be late!"

Nate and I followed Zoe home. Nate arrived soon after breakfast, thankfully without his mum, and we spent the day with Jimmy in the town. We ate cookies and played in the park where we spent most of our day. It was not extravagant or anything spectacular, but it was comfortable. I learned that I did not need lavish gifts and clothes, to flaunt money to other people to be happy. Happiness came from the company you keep.

"Slow down Zo, you'd think it was your birthday and not Ella's," Nate called.

We made it home and shoved each other aside to be the first one in. Flicking the light on, the room erupted in noise and colour.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

My mouth hung wide open as I stared the room and all its occupants. Half the village looked to be squeezed in every available space, all wearing a party hat and some with fake moustaches. A banner across the ceiling that read '_Happy Birthday'_ shone brightly. Strands of confetti and party poppers littered the ground and surfaces. In the arms of Mr Dicks and Mrs Pike was a giant cake smothered in chocolate cream and candles.

I couldn't comprehend the feeling of elation that swept over me and consumed every inch of me. Looking around at all the faces I felt my eyes swell with tears and my mouth widen into a smile. These people, these wonderful, strange people, despite knowing me for all of three months cared about me enough to drop their plans and spend an evening celebrating my birth. They cared that I was alive, that I had been born.

"Ella, you alright darling?" Nanny Anne's voice called out.

I saw her sitting in her armchair, Bill perched on the arm with his arm around her shoulders, both watching me curiously. Without thinking I flung myself at them and wrapped them in a group hug.

"Thank you, thank you so much," I said, forcefully blinking away my tears. "I love you both."

It was the first time I had said it and I couldn't be more honest. The two had swiftly replaced my own parents without even putting in much effort. They cared and looked after me when it wasn't their place to, they had no need to take me in. I wasn't their responsibility. But I couldn't be more grateful that they stumbled upon me in the snow. Thinking back on life before Nanny Anne and Bill, I seemed so empty, living my life in the repetitive routine I familiarised so well I had no need to think about it. No questioning, I wonder what I'm going to do today, to myself. But here…here there were always surprises. The paper shop was Bill's second priority. His family came first and he never failed to shower us in spontaneous surprises. Just the other day he Flooed us all to a small wizard café for brunch. No reason, just.

Their arms tightened around me. "We love you too darling, so much."

I pulled away after a moment and laughed, giddy on absolute happiness. Turning to Mr Dicks and Mrs Pike, I beckoned Zoe and Nate forwards. Grabbing one of their hands each, we counted to three and together, blew out the candles. The small fires burned out to booming applause and whistles.

We giggled and bowed to the crowd, Jimmy jumping up on his haunches and barking in the background.

"What did you wish for Ella?"

I smiled knowingly and tapped my nose. I threw an arm around Zoe and Nate and hugged them close.

"You guys are the best," I whispered.

"Oh Ella, we know," Zoe said. We succumbed into laughter once more.

"Cake time!"

I sighed contentedly as I lay in bed, my mind and body still wide awake from the sugar rush or the late night partying, I couldn't tell. But no way was I in any mood to sleep. I wasn't going to forget a second of this day.

A thudding noise vibrated through the air. Sitting up abruptly, I glanced around the room. Jimmy wasn't in here tonight, for he had slumped into bed as soon as the last guests left and refused to budge.

Telling myself it was a stray cat outside, I returned to my thoughts of my birthday, comparing it to past birthdays. Well, it didn't compare to be honest; this birthday was simpler but so full of love.

Another thud. I sat up again and moved to the window hesitantly. Was someone coming to kill me? Was it someone who wasn't invited or didn't come to the party?

My internal worrying vanished when I heard the voice.

"Ella!" it called.

A stone hit the window right where my face was and I jumped back. Pushing aside the net curtain I peered down.

"George?" I said incredulously. No way was he here now. I opened my window. "What are you doing?"

"I promised I'd be here, so ta-da! I'm here," he grinned up at me.

"But it's so late. You didn't have to," I said, even though I was secretly glad he made the effort. This day was just bursting and oozing and showered and sprinkled with love.

"Of course I had to, I promised and that's that. Now, are you going to let me in or what?"

I sighed. I gripped my nose between my finger and thumb and released a deep breath. Well, I wasn't sleepy yet. "Stand by the door."

Shutting my window, I pulled on my slippers and slipped out the door as quietly as I could. Bill's snores carried through the air, assuring me of his deep slumber. I crept down the stairs, carefully avoiding the squeaky step and tip toed to the door. Upon opening it I was met with a mischievous smirk.

"Took your time," he said.

"Same could be said for you," I countered, crossing my arms over my chest.

George snorted. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

He entered the house and followed me into the kitchen. Removing the lid from the dish, I cut a slice of cake and passed it to George. He ate in silence, murmuring noises of delight.

"You're such a messy eater," I said, watching the chocolate stuck on his cheek just below his eye.

He crossed his eyes. "Where?" His tongue swept across his lips and then stretched to cover his chin and face, almost touching his nose.

I chuckled and handed him a tissue. After he wiped his face clean he grabbed my arm and pulled me up.

"Happy birthday Ella," he grinned, and pulled out an object wrapped in newspaper from his pocket. On it, was a small sticky note with my name in orange. "Because of my hair," he said when I voiced my question as to the colour.

I tore open the newspaper to find a shiny red apple. I laughed, covering my mouth with my hand to avoid making much noise. George joined my laughter and I had to forcefully push him out the front door before he woke up the inhabitants of the house. He yelled out a quick, "Thanks for the cake," and another, "Happy birthday," before disappearing.

I clutched the apple in my hands and hugged it to my chest. A small giggle escaped my lips and I took a bite.

Oh yes, definitely better than the green ones.


	5. My Sunshine and Rainstorm

**Thank you for the follows/favourites and reviews!**

* * *

5\. My Sunshine and Rainstorm

* * *

"It's alright Jimmy, everything's going to be ok. I promise," I crooned to the whimpering dog on our sofa, huddled beneath the blanket with me.

Bill was at the hospital with Nanny Anne. She suffered another one of her terrible coughing spasms, but this one was much worse than her usual ones. This time there was blood.

Nanny Anne was incessantly coughing up blood. She had been essentially bed ridden for weeks, unable to move in fear of her legs passing out on her, but tonight she had insisted she was feeling better and joined us down in the living room. She hadn't even made it completely through the archway before she bowled over.

I looked out of the corner of my eye, praying that what I was seeing was a figment of my imagination, hoping that my mind had finally spiralled out of normalcy from the weight of my nightmares and stress and I was now seeing things.

The blood stain on the carpet.

I buried my face in Jimmy's fur. "Don't worry Jimmy, she's strong, she won't give up," I reassured myself as well as Jimmy. Silent tears streaked down my face.

The scene was still so intense in my mind, swimming behind my eyelids no matter how hard I tried to press my eyes shut. I recalled seeing Bill leap across the room, his limp preventing him from reaching Nanny Anne before she dropped to her knees. In his hysterical state he hadn't thought to use the Floo, so I used the rarely used telephone and called an ambulance. I remembered waiting, the time dragging on for what felt like hours as I stared horrified, for the ambulance to arrive. The paramedics rushed to get Nanny Anne away; Bill refusing to leave her.

The only thought that ran through my mind was that she was dying. She was losing more and more blood with each cough. This was it. I was losing her just as fast as I got her.

* * *

By morning the entire village heard of Nanny Anne's stay at the hospital. Letters upon letters flooded through the letter box, covering the floor in a mound of paper and card. The shrill ringing of the phone beside my head woke me up and I fumbled out of the blanket to answer it.

"Hello?" my voice croaked.

"Ella," Bill's voice rang out, "you alrigh'?"

"How is she?" I asked.

He sighed. "She's…ok. The doctors want her to stay a li'l longer, say she's not takin' too kindly to the medication," his voice was hoarse and weak. I couldn't bring myself to speak. How ok was 'ok'? Was she stable? Was she improving? Was she getting worse…? I didn't dare ask. The fear that the thought momentarily brought me made me shiver. I needed to see her. "I'm goin' ta stay with her until she's able to come home. You can stay with Zoe or Nate if yer like."

"When can I see her?"

Bill hesitated. "Go to Zoe's and then get Mrs Brimble to drop you off after lunch, alrigh'? How does tha' sound to yer?"

I nodded before realising he couldn't see through the telephone. "Ok." He hung up.

Putting the phone down, I turned to Jimmy. He was gazing up with his large brown eyes, lying in silence. I ran my fingers through his fur once then got off the sofa, stretching my aching muscles.

"Come on Jimbo, sleepover at Zo's."

* * *

The blinding white of the walls and the sickly clean smell of antiseptic churned my stomach, threatening to release the lunch of sandwiches I had nibbled on.

I followed the directions on the walls to room 42 in the Dunlop ward in the cardiac centre: Nanny Anne's room.

_Room 38…Tea room…Room 39_

Nurses and doctors bustled past without a second glance to the small child wandering the narrow halls, each focusing on clipboards and trollies, as if the short gap between the life and death of people did not rest in their hands.

The posters on the walls displayed images of body organs, each with slogans, statistics and deadly warnings. "I spy with my little eye something beginning with a C," "Breast is best," and "Don't drink yourself fat," were just some I glanced over. The images varied from hauntingly scary to colourful and cheery; the contradiction burning the back of my eyes.

One picture of a girl chugging a jar of oil reminisced Nanny Anne, with pink froth cascading down her chin. I cringed.

_Room 40…Room 41…Waiting Room_

My heart was beating wildly in my chest. Why was I worried? Bill said she was ok. She was fine. Pink froth and stained carpet flashed in my mind. _That's not fine. _I shook my head. Positive thoughts…positive.

A single tear rolled down my cheek as I rounded the corner and I hastily wiped it off. No need to cry, I told myself, she's _fine, _I chanted, _she's fine, she's fine, she's fine. _She's at the hospital now. The doctors are fixing her. They won't let her go…they won't let her die-

_Room 42…_

With a deep breath, I pushed the door open.

The first thing I noticed was the sound of consistent beeping. Then it was the darkness. The room was much darker than the rest of the hospital but the white walls and fluorescent lamp highlighted the silhouettes of two figures.

I walked over to the bed, my gaze never leaving Nanny Anne's form. She didn't look much better than when she was taken: her face a deathly pale covered in a light coating of sweat; her wrinkles and veins prominent; her greying blonde hair straggly.

"Ella, darling, how nice to see you," Nanny Anne greeted, her smile looking more like a grimace.

"Hi, Nanny. How are you?" I was ashamed at how small my voice came out. Here I was, visiting Nanny Anne and I was the one sounding sick. Pathetic. I cleared my throat, determined to be strong.

"I'm ok, love. How's Jimmy?"

"He's not too good," I replied honestly.

Jimmy was possibly in a state worse than me. He resisted moving all morning, finally moving when I was almost reduced to tears from frustration. Once we arrived at the front door of the Brimble house, ushered in by the ever-fussing Mrs Brimble, Jimmy trotted into the garden and stayed there unmoving. He refused to even eat, only showing signs of life with a twitch of his ear when someone mentioned Nanny Anne or Bill.

"Silly pup, knows I'm going to be fine and yet he still makes a fuss," Nanny Anne sighed, holding my hand with shaky fingers.

"Are you?" I asked, "Going to be fine?"

She breathed out a laugh. "Of course I am, darling."

A snore broke the air and I looked over to see Bill sleeping in his chair, his chin drooping down on his chest.

"Wouldn't sleep all night, the old fart," Nanny Anne smiled, looking over at Bill. "Big old bear worries too much."

We spent the afternoon talking about nothing, carefully avoiding the topic of Nanny Anne's diagnosis, before a yawn escaped my lips. I waved Nanny Anne off when she told me to go home and sleep. I was too happy being with her; I didn't want to leave. I was determined to stay with her for as long as I could. Despite her shrugging her health off, she wasn't fine. She wasn't well.

"Ella," Bill muttered, blinking his eyes open, "When d'you get here?"

"A while ago," I said.

"You girls hungry? Want anythin' to eat?" He asked.

"We're fine, love. Ella should be going now though," Nanny Anne said, pointedly looking at me.

"No, I don't want-"

"Alrigh', let me walk you out," Bill stood up and walked out the room, patting Nanny Anne's shoulder as he passed.

"But I-"

"Now, now, Ella," Nanny Anne cut me off, "I'll be home in no time. Don't worry, you go and keep Jimmy some company."

"But he's with Zoe," I couldn't help but whine.

"Ella," her voice was stern, greatly contrasting her weak body, "you need to go, darling. It won't be long until I'm home."

"You promise?"

Nanny Anne patted my hand. "Promise."

I met Bill outside room 42.

"I'll come home when Anne's fit to come. Otherwise I'll be stayin' with her. You'll be alrigh'?" He asked as we walked through the hallways.

I nodded. "What's wrong with her?"

He sighed and put an arm loosely around my shoulders. "Her heart hasn't been good. A few years ago she had a heart attack. Doctor says it's made it weak, and that it caused her to cough up…you know. So they're gonna do some tests and if she's fine she'll be allowed home."

We stopped in the entrance and I looked up at Bill. "She will be fine Ella. Don't you worry 'bout yer Nanny, she's been through hell an' back, and she won' let somethin' like this take her away. Not from you. Not when she jus' got you." We shared a brief awkward hug. "Look after Jimmy."

* * *

Bill and Nanny Anne were both right when they said they'd be home soon. I was at the Brimble household for a few days before Bill came to get me and Jimmy. Jimmy ran all the way home and jumped on Nanny Anne and refused to leave her side for days.

Her health over the year stayed stable and she was able to continue her chores as usual. She would have odd days where she would stay in bed and her coughs would start up again but a few visits to the doctor and she'd be right as rain again. Well, as right as she could be with the state of her weak heart. The doctor made home visits to check up on her often; the prognosis always coming up positive. After the third visit he even bought sweets for me, saying how I deserved it for being the best carer for Nanny Anne. I spent most of my time with her after school and even Bill took hours off work from the paper shop to stay at home with us.

I saw George again in the town one day, and almost burst out in tears. Seeing his familiar face and warm smile, and even his annoyingly twitchy wink was a blessing after having witnessed a vicious coughing attack from Nanny Anne that afternoon.

We walked through the village and raced up a tree in the park. I was beating him but he kept pulling me down by my ankle.

"Cheating plonker," I grumbled as I swung my legs on either side of the branch. He had made it up first and was leaning against the bark, arms folded behind his head.

"Don't be jealous, Cinderella. Now then, tell me your woes, oh young one." He had taken it upon himself to call me Cinderella after I told him the story of the fairy-tale princess a few weeks back.

"I'm not much younger than you, Georgie."

"A year younger, baby Cinderella," he teased.

"Shut up."

He kicked my knee with his outstretched leg. I sighed. "Nanny Anne's still not well." On our last encounter I was incredibly glum and he made me tell him what was bothering me. He even went so far as to take me to the bakery for a cupcake.

"Ah, I see. She getting worse?"

"No, the doctor says she's fine. Ugh, I hate that word. _Fine,_" I spat. "Everything's _fine_, Nanny Anne's _fine_, don't worry Ella, even if she is dying, it won't matter, 'cos everything is _bloody_ _fine._" I gasped, covering my mouth with both hands.

George sniggered. "Ooh, Princess Cinderella said a bad word!"

"Oh my God- I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to."

"It's fine, honestly Ella. I've heard worse. Remember? Six other siblings," George smiled.

"Don't tell anyone," I said.

"Cross my heart," he rolled his eyes and made a cross across his chest with his finger. "But seriously, if everyone says she's fine, and if she's acting normally, there doesn't seem to be any reason for you to worry, Elle." That nickname I could tolerate.

"But it won't just go away will it? Whatever's hurting her heart," I muttered. I felt uncomfortable with the seriousness of the conversation; never before had we spent so long discussing Nanny Anne. George would always turn the conversation around when we spoke too much of anything sad and glum. But that was just George: all round happy. Always smiling. Apart from the days where the happiness radiated through our home and Nanny Anne was having a good day, George was the only other thing that truly bought a smile to my face. Zoe and Nate were far too busy with their schoolwork and other friends (and in Zoe's case her brothers) to spend much time with me. And if they did, they would spend the evenings holed up with Nanny Anne and Bill as well.

"Hey, wanna hear what scandalous accident Perce had the other day?" he asked with his signature cheeky grin. And just like that he was intensely regaling the tale of another of Percy's woes, his arms waving around himself and the grin never leaving his face. This time, he and Fred, his closest brother and partner in crime, had pranked Percy by pouring soap into his morning juice and emptying a jar of ants onto his pancakes. Tears were threatening to pour down my face, for the first time in what felt like forever from mirth rather than fear. My ribs and cheeks ached and my laughter simmered into silence from the lack of air in my lungs after George's impersonation of his brother's reaction. He followed this by imitating his mother's response, wagging his finger and stomping on the branch, all the while shaking his butt – as he claimed his mother did when frustrated.

"Come on Cinderella, let's get something to eat," George said once we had both calmed down.

I lifted my head off his shoulder. "Last one down's a rotten egg!" I scrambled to my feet and instantly rushed down the tree. I heard a mumbled yell from George before my feet touched the ground and I jumped in joy.

George joined me moments later. "Oi, you cheated!" he huffed, but the smile on his face gave away his annoyance.

"Now we're even," I tweaked his nose and turned to walk out the park.

We made it to the fruit stall within minutes, George hurriedly checking the time on the big clock in the square every once in a while.

"Hello Mr Babbington," I greeted the sandy blonde behind the counter. George sniggered behind me and I stamped his foot to silence him. God, that boy was really rude sometimes.

"Oh, hello Ella. How's Anne doing?" he asked with a handsome smile.

I shrugged. "Same." I never delved into too much detail of Nanny Anne's wellbeing when asked by the other villagers. It wasn't that it made me uncomfortable, but it was more due to the fact that hardly anyone genuinely seemed to care. No one even visited anymore to check up on her. "Where's Mr Dicks today?"

George snorted out loud and I elbowed him harshly when Mr Babbington had his back turned. "Mr Dicks? Is that real?" Even without looking at his face I could hear the unbidden laughter in his smile. "I don't think it's possible to get a surname worse than _Dicks._"

"Don't be so rude _Weasley_," I hissed under my breath.

"Oh, Dicky," George sniggered again and muffled his laughter by stuffing a fist in his mouth. What was so funny? "He's out fishing today, wanted to enjoy the weather while it lasts."

I nodded and took the two apples from him. I held out the green apple to George with my nose scrunched up; I still couldn't understand how someone could favour green apples over red. "Actually," George said, eyeing the apple I held out to him, "can I have a red one instead?"

It took me a few seconds to take in what he requested. I stumbled over my words before letting out a strange noise that sounded a mixture of a high pitched warble and a groan. Swapping the green apple for a red one and handing it to George, I watched as he took a great bite, successfully dripping juice down his chin.

"What?" he asked, his voice muffled.

I was still in shock. "But I- you said…green…but red…what?"

George chuckled. "What can I say? Red's growing on me."

If I wasn't rooted to the spot in disbelief I would've slapped him for giving me that damn wink.

* * *

Waiting was something I grew to hate. Loathe. Dread. Despise. Detest. Abhor. It was all I seemed to be doing. Waiting meant there was time to think. And thinking was something I could really do without. Even the fairy-tale book I had open on my lap couldn't hold my concentration for more than half a sentence.

This morning seemed a lifetime away. Dancing in the kitchen by the stove as I flipped pancakes – unsuccessfully – while Bill twirled Nanny Anne around to the radio and Jimmy jumped around. We were having one of our good days, where the sun shined in through the large kitchen window and birds sung to their hearts content. George had even dropped by, albeit only for a few minutes – enough for him to inhale half the pancakes and leave with chocolate syrup all over his face. It was just like the first time he had officially met Nanny Anne and Bill all those months ago, but without the nervous worry of them approving of him as my friend. I remember desperately needing them to like him; he was my sunshine in the gloomy world of heart disease and my hidden past.

But now…now he was family to them. My worrying had been pointless. Nanny Anne absolutely loved George and all his wittiness, and even Bill loved hearing the a few tales of his most famous – infamous to his family – pranks.

"Well aren't you a little devil, eh," Nanny Anne smiled to George as he puffed out his chest and gave his most angelic face.

"I'm not quite sure what you mean dearest Anne."

She chuckled. "Little devil and a charmer, always getting yourself into and out of trouble. What are we going to do with you George?"

"Carry on feeding me those delicious pancakes of yours would be a good start," he jibed. The table erupted into laughter again.

He rushed out soon after demolishing breakfast, claiming his mum had been expecting the milk to arrive ten minutes ago. He left with Nanny Anne calling out for him to invite his family around to dinner one day, just like she always did.

I flicked the page over and started on the fairy-tale story of 'Cinderella'. I'd read it so many times since Nanny Anne gave me the book that I could remember it by heart. But still I read on, relishing in the familiar words and sweetness of the tale.

The afternoon was drastically different to the morning. Nanny Anne was seated on her armchair for hours before Bill rushed her to the hospital. He said she looked weak and, on the doctor's orders, had to take her in for signs of any irregularities. Nanny Anne squeezed a lingering hug to me on her way out and peppered my face in kisses, breathing out, "I love you," between each one. The gesture, although sweet, bought a foreboding sense of finality. I couldn't let go of her and it took Bill to drag us apart for me to retreat to the pistachio-green sofa. No matter how I looked and analysed her behaviour the same thought spun around in my head.

That was goodbye.

It had been a good four hours since the two had left. No one called so I had no idea what to think. And when there was no news, my mind tended to spiral to the worst case scenario. But I couldn't afford to think like that, not now. Instead I directed my thoughts to family outings over the year. The picnic we had in the garden last week came first into mind. We laid out a vibrant red blanket on the overgrown grass and emptied the basket full of sandwiches, fruit and chicken drumsticks. The clouds were hovering over the sun that day and darkened to a miserable grey, threatening the arrival of rain. Zoe and Nate were invited and we all sat down and ate and laughed and sang songs until the heavens opened and rain showered down over the village. It was one of the few days we all got to spend together and not even the rain could burst our bubble of bliss.

A smile tugged on my lips as I thought back to Bill and Nanny Anne hurriedly packing the remnants of food while Jimmy bit onto Nate's jumper and dragged him further out into the garden. Zoe jumped on my back, wrapped her long legs around my waist and arms around my neck and shouted nonsense up to the sky. I twirled around until we collapsed, dirtying our clothes in the process. We rested in the mud, catching our breaths before leaping up and throwing mud balls on Nate.

The sound of the door unlocking and opening snapped me out of my daze. She had to be ok. Boots shuffled on the hardwood floor and keys jingled. My eyes were locked onto the archway, praying that they would hurry on through and relieve me from my internal worrying. Jimmy, who had been resting on the floor by the fireplace, was now watching the archway intently as well. He soon got impatient and trotted out the room to meet the guest.

Seconds past and finally Jimmy came back in, resuming his space by the fireplace and buried his nose in his paws. Was that good or bad?

Turning back to the archway, I saw the shadow before the figure. My eyes never leaved him as he lazily limped to his armchair, keeping his gaze downcast. He slumped down in his seat. No other noise was made or heard. Not even the wind dared to whistle through the village.

I looked at the occupants in the room and felt my heart, like Bill, slump down into nothing.

Nanny Anne wasn't coming home.


	6. Breaking

6\. Breaking

* * *

The suns orange rays beat down on the village of Ottery St Catchpole, bathing the town in the summer warmth. Children's laughter and joyful songs stretched from one side of the village to the other, presenting the picture perfect scene. But the murky red curtains blocked the suns powerful rare beams, suspending the room in darkness. Outside voices were muffled from the closed windows and doors. I didn't want to participate in the festivities and by barring myself indoors away from any other forms of life, I was successful.

A dark cloud loomed over the house ever since Bill arrived home alone that night mere days ago. The absence of Nanny Anne had taken its toll on all the occupants of the house; I reserved myself to my room; Jimmy divided his time between sleeping and visiting the neighbours for food and Bill…Bill was in a state worse than death.

Even underneath the blanket and pillows my mind could not rest. Dry tears marked the fabric from hours on end of relentless crying, sobbing. I hastily wiped away the tear that slowly tracked down my cheek, leaving my face feeling grimy – when was the last time I washed?

The grumble of my stomach gave me an incentive to remove myself from the confines of my small room and I stretched my limp limbs, making my way down the stairs to the kitchen. Peering through the archway, I noticed Bill still perched on his armchair, his physical form still present yet mentally he was light-years away.

The room was shrouded in darkness just like the rest of the house. But the lavender walls that once brightened the room did nothing to cheer up the gloom. Instead, it bequeathed a dull grey tone in the filtered sunlight from the gaps in the curtain, intensifying the mood.

With tentative steps I made my way over to Bill and stood in front of him. His eyes never wavered. "Bill," I called, my voice barely above a whisper. He made no move to show he heard me. He probably didn't; his mind stuck on that night. "Bill," I tried again. This time he blinked once, twice, before moving his eyes to me. His mouth parted ever so slightly but no noise came out. The ache in my chest intensified from his heartbroken expression. He looked so utterly broken that my eyes burned from oncoming tears. The tremble of my lower lip snapped Bill out of his stupor and he immediately gathered me in his arms.

"Ella," his hoarse voice cracked. "Oh…oh, my dear."

I slipped my small arms around his broad shoulders and buried my face in his neck, his beard scratching the bare skin of my arm. Sobs broke through my nine year old mouth and we cried together for the first time, both mourning the devastating end of our beloved. His callous hands patted down my matted chestnut brown hair as he openly wept.

Through our crying the sounds of laughing families sounded all but cheerful, the jovial tinkling was more taunting and spiteful, mocking the permanent departure of Nanny Anne. How could she be taken away so suddenly when I had scarcely gotten to be with her? So much I had yet to learn from her, about her. It was cruel the way fate shattered, beat and burned my heart only months after it was eternally dented from my own parents. Death was a funny thing; killing her slowly from within then all at once.

But the warmth that spread through my body in Bill's arms made me feel whole again, if only for a moment. Bill wasn't the biggest hugger but when he did hug it was the best feeling in the world. His large arms protective around my small body, his homely scent of fresh rain, paper and a deep masculine scent I could not identify, and of course, his large protruding belly. Very cuddly.

Dinner was spent in silence. I strongly urged Bill to eat in the kitchen upon hearing the growling of his stomach and after much insistence (classed as whinging to adults) he reluctantly agreed. Jimmy wasn't back from wherever he left to, leaving us to keep to our sandwiches. Bill picked at his pickle and peanut butter sandwich while I wolfed down my seconds of tuna and cucumber, filling up on the meals I had missed.

Bill resorted back to his selective muteness no matter how hard I tried to get him to talk. I discussed everything from the weather to the upcoming school year – still over a month away – but he didn't make a single comprehensible sound. His restraint from communicating made me feel terribly lonely and it took me all my willpower not to stomp my feet and scream in frustration. But like any other nine year old, I had my limits and my already small level of patience was wearing thin.

We needed each other and I was more than thankful to have him with me. But if we were to be strong together he would need to get his act together and act like the grown man he was. No more wallowing alone staring into nothing and disregarding his responsibilities.

"Bill," I said. Nothing. I slapped my hands on the table. "Bill!" His gaze flickered up to me before returning to his sandwich. "Bill, talk to me." Still nothing. The burning sensation in my eyes came back and I choked on a sob. "Why won't you say anything Bill? You need to get up and do something! You had her for years all for yourself but I only had her company for a few months. If anything, I should be the one moping around," I hated how childish I sounded; the etiquettes of acting a lady and proper mother had fiercely embedded into my mind vanished in an instant. I had every right to be upset and I was going to show it. "I need you, Bill."

The sympathetic and loving expression I expected was nowhere to be seen. Bill looked up with a glare and in the blink of an eye he gripped my upper arms. "How dare you." I flinched. "What makes you think you deserve her more than I? She's my- she was my wife! I've been with her for most of my life and you think you should be more upset? You're not even her real daughter!" His deep Scottish brogue enunciated every word, spitting them out as if to remove an awful taste in his mouth. I whimpered under his grip, his last statement cutting deeply into my heart.

"Bill-"

"NO ELLA!" I would have jumped back if it were not for his hands on my arms. He removed one hand to point in my face. "You want me to move on that quickly? Fine. But don't come crying to me when you're not happy. You asked for it Ella."

"I'm sorry, Bill. I didn't mean that, I'm so- so sorry, please, I need you," I cried, stumbling over my words. He shook his head.

"You don't understand, you just DON'T UNDERSTAND! You can't need me. I can't do it, not on my own." With that he got up from the table and limped out of the kitchen and to the living room.

I stood shell shocked, my hands shaking in fright. The telephone was ringing but the sound was so vague in my mind I didn't register it. It had been ringing on and off all day but we ignored it. We weren't in the mood to talk to anyone.

The sound of the Floo alerted me and I ran in the living room only to find the green embers dying and Bill gone. It was the first time he'd used it for transportation since my arrival.

My face scrunched up and hot tears streaked down my face. The pain in my chest grew with every sob. Why did he leave? Was he going to come back? I said I was sorry… "I didn't mean it Bill. I'm sorry, please come back. Please," I pleaded to the living room through my crying. I fell down to the floor where I crawled into a ball on my side, my dinner long forgotten.

I didn't acknowledge the pair of arms that wrapped around me. I was too numb. I let whoever it was hold me. In the back of my mind I noted the person had thin arms – definitely not Bill's. And their scent wasn't very strong but I could just make out the smell of skin that had been in the sun for hours and the familiar but mild shampoo. I wound my arms around their thin waist and nuzzled my face in their chest, hoping the soothing heartbeat would calm my erratic breathing.

"Ella, what's wrong? Where are Nanny Anne and Bill?" More sobs broke out once I'd heard this. Nanny Anne wasn't coming back. She couldn't make everything better again like she used to. No more motherly smiles, or fresh apple pie, or her cuddles. Never again. And Bill…I didn't want to think of what I did not know. Fear of rejection reared its ugly head and pushed my hope to the back of my mind. Why would he come back?

Words were being murmured softly into my ear, reassurances that everything was going to be ok. The fingers stroking through my hair and the soft lips pressing down on my forehead contributed to pacify my breathing until the hiccups faded away and we were left rocking on the floor.

"She's gone," I mumbled against the soft cotton. "Nanny Anne's gone." My voice was empty, void of any emotion. I was sure I cried out all my feelings.

"Where, Ella?" Mrs Brimble's gentle voice asked.

My throat tightened briefly. "Heaven."

Mrs Brimble took me to her house. She wouldn't let me stay in an empty house, and after my refusal to say what happened to Bill, she left it alone. Just before we left the phones shrill ringing rang through the air and she answered, her expression turning solemn. Writing a note to Bill, she grabbed my hand and led me out of the house and down the street.

Zoe instantly broke off the headlock she had her brother stuck in and bombarded me, wondering why I was at her house but then claiming she didn't really care and that we could spend the night making a fort and watch movies and eating lots of yummy cake, maybe even invite Nate over for an impromptu sleepover. A stern look from Mrs Brimble cut off her excited ramblings and she led me to the sofa where everyone watched me bemused.

I kept my head down until Mrs Brimble sent her four children off to bed, her eldest son Eric the only one not present. She spent some time trying to find out what happened but I couldn't talk. Coming to sit by me, she pulled me in a hug and told me about the phone call: it was notifying us of Nanny Anne's impending funeral to happen in two days' time. It was sooner than expected but they had no need to keep her rotting away above ground. The thought sent a shiver down my spine and Mrs Brimble squeezed me slightly tighter. With nothing left to be said, she sent me off upstairs to bed.

* * *

The next day Mr Brimble escorted me home to get a few belongings before we went back. During my brief visit at home, I hastily checked every room for Bill but was disappointed when I saw the house empty. Maybe he wasn't coming back after all. With a deep sigh we left.

"So it's agreed then?" Zoe said, startling me out of my daze. We were spending the day in the living room watching movies. I tried my hardest to engage with Zoe but I found my mind blank, devoid of any emotion or thought. I had sudden random urges to burst out in tears but I would always brush them away before anyone noticed. Mrs Brimble came in the room to check up on us every few minutes. "Ella? Are you listening?"

I nodded. "Yeah, Pinocchio's fine, Zo." She gave a tight lipped smile and placed the video tape into the machine. Taking the remote off the table, she came and settled herself beside me and her younger brother of only four years, Phillip, before playing the movie.

"Y'know Phil," Zoe started, once the movie was nearing its end. "That's how you were born; you're really a puppet."

Phillip's outraged gasp and stuttering caused me to choke on a piece of popcorn. It was so utterly adorable.

"It's true Philly," Zoe continued, "But I don't see _how._ I mean really, you're not brave, truthful or unselfish, are you? I think the Fairy made a mistake."

Phillip started sniffling. He didn't know exactly what Zoe was saying but with four older siblings he knew an insult when he heard one. He quietened down in an instant, a wondrous expression over his face. "Do I have Jimimy?"

I chuckled under my breath. Zoe saw me and grinned wider. "Yes Phil, you do have Jimimy Cricket. He's in the garden."

He gasped, his blue eyes bugging out of his head and a large smile taking over his face, showing the gaping hole where his front teeth should've been. "Mama! I need to find Jimimy! Where's he hiding? Don't let cat eat him!" he ran out the room shouting.

Zoe and I giggled. She turned to me. "Y'know Ella," she said slowly, and I prepared myself for her curious questioning. I returned her gaze. "If you lie would your nose get any bigger? 'Cos it's quite big already."

I blinked at her before spluttering out into laughter, her question being so unexpected. I laughed so hard I toppled over onto my side. It felt nice. "Let's see, umm…you're the most amazing person in the world, Zoe." I crossed my eyes to look at my nose when Zoe scoffed.

"I said _lie,_ Ella. Everyone's knows how fabulous I am," she said and made a pose, bending her elbows and resting one hand on her hip and the other behind her head. From the corner of my eye I saw Mrs Brimble stick her head around the corner to watch us, a hint of a smile on her pink lips.

"Ok, ok, I'll try again," I shut my eyes in concentration. Opening them once I'd thought of something, I spat out laughter once again, spraying Zoe's face in spit. She had her fingers stretching her mouth wide open with her tongue poking out and her bright blue eyes crossed over her scrunched up nose. She looked utterly ridiculous. Zoe immediately jumped back and fell off the sofa.

"EW! That's disgusting Ella," she whined. The effect was ruined from the few giggles that broke out.

"Oh my- I'm so sorry Zo," I said, leaning over the edge to see her wiping her face vigorously with her hands. She sat up and fixed a glare on me. We stared at each other before succumbing into laughter again.

The pressure on my chest lightened as we laughed and momentarily, I forgot why I was upset. It was nice to joke and be a normal kid again.

"Where's Jimmy?" she asked once we calmed down and were sitting on the sofa again.

I shrugged. "Don't know. He's probably at someone's house getting them to feed him," I said, guilt creeping into me for not looking for Jimmy, but he was a smart dog and could look after himself. More than I could say for myself.

Zoe nodded. She sighed and leaned back into the sofa. "I wish we had a dog. It's so annoying living with boys all the time."

"At least you have loads of people your age to play with –"

"– We wrestle –" she corrected.

"– When I have to wait until school or if we invite each other around. Or if I see George then I play with him." I added the last statement as it came into my head. Zoe sat up.

"You still see George?" she asked. I nodded. "Why do I never see him?"

"I thought you were annoyed by boys?" I teased.

"Pfft no. I said it's annoying living with them. Like Nate; he's a boy and he's one of my best friends. But I don't live with him so he's fun to play with," she explained.

"Well next time I see George I'll see if I can get him to meet you."

She eyed me. "You're the only one who's seen this 'George'," Zoe stated.

"Yeah, so?" I asked defensively. Did she think I was lying? It wasn't my fault he didn't talk to any of the other kids from the village. I had always wondered why he kept to himself whenever he came by.

Zoe watched me closer then shrugged. "No reason. Come on, what else should we watch?"

* * *

The next day came way too fast for my liking and the sense of dread I woke up to didn't ease my nervousness. Mrs Brimble let me sleep in longer than usual but the morning sped by so fast I found myself at the graveyard in no time, clad in an old plain black dress of Zoe's.

The graveyard was buzzing with activity; most of the villagers were present to mourn Nanny Anne's passing. I gulped as I made my way towards the front with Mrs Brimble holding my hand tightly.

I shifted my gaze and felt my heart dropping when I didn't see Bill. I needed to say sorry. I didn't mean half the things I said but I needed him to understand my pain. I needed _him_. He should've been here. For Nanny Anne. A nudge on my leg caught my attention and I looked down to see Jimmy. He gave a swift poke with his leg and took off before I could give him as much as a pat. Lucky him, leaving before it got too much.

The ceremony droned on and I couldn't linger on the words of the priest. Why would I? I didn't care what he had to say. These were empty words with no feelings. The same words repeated over and over again with no correlation to the deceased. I knew Nanny Anne was in heaven. I didn't need someone to tell me how much she was going to be missed, or how many people were left deeply impacted by her death. The only people who were truly going to feel the pain of the loss of her were me and Bill.

Towards the end of the speech I zoned out and watched the other guests. Many had sombre expressions and were respectfully keeping their heads down. The sun shone against the sea of black, illuminating the foliage surrounding the graveyard.

My gaze swept over the trees and flickered back to the figure at the back. I squinted against the sun to get a clearer look. I was too distracted to notice the priest ending his speech and Nanny Anne being lowered into the ground.

People began to leave and I rushed away from Mrs Brimble discreetly. My little legs stumbled over the many feet I ran over as I squeezed myself through the swarm of bodies. Escaping through a gap I saw his back retreating through the village and I resumed running to catch up.

"Bill!" I yelled. He didn't stop. I pushed my legs even faster. "Bill, wait!"

Bill hurried home and I rushed in after him, only to see the living room empty again. My heart was beating wildly and I searched the whole house calling his name. He wasn't there.

A door slamming caused me to perk up. "Bill?"

Jimmy trotted into the room and sat down by my feet. I squatted down and stroked his fur. "Hey Jimbo, where you been boy?"

"Little guy wouldn't leave me alone until I followed him, the bugger."

I would recognise the terribly high pitch yet masculine voice anywhere.

"I came down yesterday but you weren't here. No one was actually. Care to tell me where everyone was? Wait- why are you wearing a dress, Cinderella?"

In spite of my mood I had an urge to laugh; he knew my dislike of dresses and itchy tights. "I've just come from a funeral."

George sat down on the worn pistachio-green sofa and patted the spot next to him. "Who died?"

I looked down at my hands in my lap. "Nanny Anne," I murmured.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Do you, er…want to talk about it?"

Jimmy shifted and tilted his head. I shook my head.

"So, where's Billy bear?" he asked.

A smile involuntary made its way onto my face at his use of Bill's nickname. He couldn't be a normal person and call people by their legal birth names. "I don't know. He left."

George had a small frown on his face. "Why?"

I shrugged. "I said some things and he got angry and just…left. I feel horrible." I put my face in my hands to hide my quivering lip. Jimmy rested his paws on my feet.

"Where're you staying?" George asked, rubbing my shoulder with his hand. It was small and thin, but still bigger than mine, giving a small amount of comfort.

"A friend's," I responded. "Zoe. She actually wanted to meet you."

George chuckled and pulled on his ear. "Ah, I'd love to Elle, but mum doesn't know I came down here. Jimmy dragged me away before I could come up with an excuse."

I shook my head. Typical George.

"Come on," he said, jumping off the sofa and pulling me up. "Walk me to the hill and help me come up with an excuse so mum doesn't skin me alive. I've grown rather fond of my tan. First time I haven't burnt y'know."

I smiled. My sunshine. "For an eleven year old you're really vain."

"Dashing good looks, princess. It's all natural."

"Don't call me that."

We walked through Ottery St Catchpole towards Stoatshead Hill with Jimmy running up ahead. Villagers roaming through the streets would stop and send me pitying looks but with George cracking ridiculous joke after ridiculous joke it was easy to ignore them.

"So you're ready?" I asked once we'd made it to the bottom of the hill.

George nodded. "Yep: Percy started screaming that there was no sugar at home for his tea so, like the best brother ever, I kindly went to the village to get some to sweeten up his sour bum," he said, repeating the story we had come up with and holding up the bag of sugar I gave him from the kitchen before we left.

"Good."

He looked at me with an unreadable expression, the slight tan the sun had given him camouflaging the smattering of freckles on his normally pale face. "You'll be ok?" he asked, unusually serious.

"Of course."

"Good. Bye princess."

"Don't call me that ginger."


	7. If this was a movie

7\. If This Was a Movie

* * *

If life were a movie then the next five years of my life would be thrown over the camera, completely ignored in favour of the grand scheme fate had planned. And possibly to shorten the amount of time for what would be deemed as dull to outsiders but completely mind boggling to the one underdoing the transformation, in this case me.

The audience wouldn't see me transform from a young girl into a teenager with a mind too old for her body. They wouldn't see the transition from primary school to secondary, where Prunella Trunchball, the pudgy blonde, hounded me more than ever away from the protection of my older best friends, Zoe Brimble and Jonathan 'Nate' Pike. They wouldn't see me stress under the humongous load of homework, the conflicting teenage emotions, teasing and gossiping that seemed life threatening from the raging hormones ("Oh! Look at her eyebrows! Too close together and far too bushy. And that _nose_! Ugh, running into a brick wall couldn't even save that."), the juggle between working a part time job and keeping up with everything else and all the other menial changes life thrust upon me.

And they wouldn't see Bill coming back.

It had been only been a few days since Nanny Anne's funeral and I was still residing at the Brimble's. I was sat in the living room with Eric, Zoe's eldest brother, who was teaching me how to play blackjack when Mrs Brimble answered the door, instantly ceasing the incessant knocking. To say she was shocked would've been an understatement when she saw Bill; no one had seen him since before the funeral. He took me home in silence and made me dinner for the first time.

"Why did you come back?" I asked as he cleared the table. I refused to take my eyes off him. "Why did you come and get me?"

His footsteps faltered slightly before resuming again, keeping his back towards me. "Anne would've flipped a lid if she saw me actin' the way I was. You deserve better kid, and I promise to look after yer."

Now, if life was a movie none of that would've been shown. It would skip straight to a regular day where I wake up to make Bill breakfast only to find he's already left for work via a brief note, and then carry on my day until I see him at dinner. Fast forward the almost completely silent meal filled with awkward 'how are you's and any other snippets of conversations where we mention something of some importance that the camera conveniently skipped over, to me sitting up in bed crying at the worn photo album and running my fingers lightly over everyone's faces, slipping out a sentence or two every few minutes to catch the audience up on what they've missed.

But life most certainly isn't a movie. My life dragged on by the minute, inching through every monotonous day and every highly emotional drama, thinking _this is it._ This is my life. How exciting. Where the most thrilling moment was my first kiss, albeit Nate had swapped places with Zoe's new cat at the time and I then refused to go anywhere Nate – the first dare I ever declined (which I later made up for after stuffing myself with Mrs Brimble's cheese and onion quiche. How d'you like that Nate!) How many teenage girls could proudly say their first kiss was with a smelly cat? And then their first intentional kiss with a boy was filled with the taste of the most awfully scented foods ever?

I never cried over photos. I never found much reason to look at them unless we had a guest who outwardly asked for them. Most of my spare time was hardly ever even spent in my room. I completed homework on my favourite pistachio-green sofa and even slept there most nights. Some habits were too hard to break. Dinner wasn't as awkward as some directors and producers would've made it out to be. I spoke of my day in great detail while Bill would add in comments of his own and ask questions about whatever. But he never delved into his own work. Not the work at the paper shop; he had no qualms about relaying his issues with annoying customers with their odd small talk.

It was his wizard work he never spoke of.

Bill had taken to Flooing out to do God knows what every week. His visits were never regular; one day he would leave late in the night and wouldn't be back for days at a time. This was when Zoe and I would look after his paper shop. I never asked him what he was up to. Oh no, I learnt my lesson. He went on a massive rant on how I should trust him and that if anything were to happen to him I would be informed after I asked him about it just before my twelfth birthday. I took his word for it. I wasn't about to let us fall out again.

If this was a movie there would also be some complicated romance involved, presumably those conflicted love triangles with the two most involved boys in my life: Nate and George. Although Nate was my 'first' kiss there were no romantic feelings. He was my shy older brother at most. My shy older brother who harboured unrequited feelings for our other best friend. But every teenage drama movie needs a bit of romantic drama. Not in real life.

And George…

The summer of Nanny Anne's death was the most I'd ever seen of George. One night when Bill was back he snuck me out to the swings in the park and then we sat atop the slide, just sitting. No talking, no joking, no thinking. He broke the silence by saying how he was going boarding school (or as he called it, 'going away for the boring month's school') the following year. His visits after that were always a surprise but he always managed to find me at least once a month. And then he went to 'going away for the boring month's school' where I saw him once during the holidays.

But I was much too young then to be worrying about a love life. Even when I was at the acceptable age to be involved with a boy he always managed to take my mind off it. Regaling tales of some more intricate pranks he carried out in school, detailing his detentions and friends, we never bothered with advancing into the unknown. Well, unknown for me. George never had any issue with telling me about his flings in school after his third (or was it second?) year at his school.

Being busy did not deter me from still having thoughts of romance, however.

Life was definitely not a movie. And whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, who knew?

"Is little Ella in dream land again?" His voice snapped me out of my daze.

School had just broken off for the summer and we were in my garden soaking up some of the rare hot rays of the blinding sun. Well, George was. I was comfortably in the shade attempting to read a book on a classical forbidden love story I had picked up from the local bookstore while Bill was out in wizard land.

"Shut up, I'm busy," I said, my voice muffled against the pencil in my mouth, used for scribbling down any notes in the sides.

George got up from where he was laying on the grass and stretched out his arms. I would be a liar if I said I hadn't noticed how much he changed since he was away at school. Not mentally, definitely not. He was still as much as a child in that still bright red head of his. Physically he had grown taller, was still growing and was a fair bit taller than me now (I stopped growing as soon as I hit fourteen). And he certainly filled out. His muscles flexed with the slightest movement, his jaw more defined with no ounce of baby fat (ok, maybe there was _some_), his veins more prominent on his hands and arms, his shoulders broader than ever, and those _abs._ God, he wasn't the lanky skinny boy I remember playing with in the park anymore. As well as that he grew out his hair. Where it was short and scruffy when I first met him, it was now long and hung around his face to below his chin.

He shook his hair out and walked over to me. With a quick swipe of his hand he pulled the book out of my hand. My head shot up.

"Hey!" I yelped, squinting my eyes up to glare at him silhouetted against the afternoon sun. He threw the book over his shoulder and pulled me up. I gasped, outraged. "Do not _ever_ throw my books, George."

George scoffed and pushed me by my shoulders towards the grass in the sun where he previously lay. "School finished a week ago. You've spent months away from seeing this gorgeous face and godly body and you're not going to spend another second with a book while I'm here." He pressed down on my shoulders until I sat down. He leaned down next to my head. "Now, I'm going to go in and get us a drink and when I get back, you better be out of those clothes and without book." I stared up at him with wide eyes. His face flushed slightly as he stumbled to recover his words. "I- I mean not naked, hell no! I meant in a bikini or something, but not if you- if you don't want to, I mean…just- whatever you want, you look like you need a tan. NO! Not that you look like a ghost, trust me, you really don't but-"

"George," I interrupted him, smirking at his discomfort. It was a rare moment to see the red head embarrassed and blushing. If only I had my camera with me. "I get it. Go."

He nodded his head vigorously and started to walk backwards towards the kitchen door. "Ok. Good. I mean, you have nothing to be ashamed of…not that I'd know, I mean, I have a girlfriend and she'd-"

"_George_," I broke him off again and chuckled. "Seriously. Shut up and go."

George winked that still obnoxiously terrible wink, clicked his fingers and swivelled around, sauntering into the kitchen. I breathed out a laugh. Some things never change.

I cast my eyes around the garden, mentally noting the work Bill and I would have to do once he got back. The usual bipolar weather delayed us in mowing the grass and weeding, leaving the garden to look a mess. The birds flittered around the bird house Bill and Nanny Anne had fixed eons ago. A squirrel scurried on the back fence. A hedgehog was sitting by the slab of grey stone wedged crookedly into the ground with an array of multicolour flowers surrounding it.

I gazed sadly at the headstone, the usual feeling of my heart dropping into my stomach whenever I saw it present. It had only been a few months since Jimmy died. He was old. Really old. Bill said he had exceeded the typical age a dog should live and wasn't the least bit surprised when one day we woke up and he didn't. I remember walking through the village without him, the pitying glances that were thrown my way back in full force since Nanny Anne. It didn't seem right, going around without him by my side, waking up without his salivating tongue drooping everywhere, coming home from school to an empty house with no overexcited greeting.

"Wow, you're really out of it today, aren't you little one?" I jumped up and held my hand to my erratically beating heart.

"For God's sake, George, stop doing that," I said, slapping his arm. He chuckled and handed me a cool glass of lemonade. "Thanks."

"Well maybe if you didn't keep on going to la-la land I wouldn't have to," he replied, running his fingers against my ribs enough for me to squirm away from him. His signature smirk was in place. "Ohoho, did I forget little Ella's ticklish?"

I slapped is hand away. "NO, stop! And stop-" slap on the arm, "calling-" another, "me-" and again, "little!" And one more.

He bought his arms up to take the brunt of my attack. "Ok, ok, ok, enough woman! I get it, stop! And it's not my fault you have a baby face."

It was, unfortunately, true. My round face with a slightly pointed chin always made me look younger than my actual age, giving me the look of childlike innocence. "Oh, sod off you plonker," I grumbled, leaning away from him and resumed looking at the headstone, sipping lightly on the lemonade.

"You miss him," George stated. I nodded. He was the first companion I had with me through everything. He was the Baloo to my Mowgli, the Argos to my Odysseus. Life without him was incredibly plain and empty, and as much as Zoe tried to get her cat, Kiwi, to keep me company, she just couldn't replace him.

"So do I. Now I have no one to tell me when you're in a mood and need cheering up from a devilishly handsome red head."

"Ginger," I corrected with a smirk.

"Cheeky," George said nudging me with his arm. I bit my lip to suppress the grin taking over my face. Simple touches had me smiling like a fool lately when it came to George.

Silence came over us once again as we sat in the sun, keeping to our thoughts. But, George being George naturally felt the need to talk.

"I don't really have a girlfriend. There's a girl, but we're not together."

I brought my knees up to my chest and crossed my arms over them, holding my lemonade glass out with one hand. The sun shining on his head made his hair dance like fire in the light breeze, enticing me to run my fingers through it. His eyes had his usual playful glint to them which was only intensified by the light.

"What's she like?"

George smiled and looked up to the sky. "Perfect," he muttered. "She's just…amazing. I don't know how to describe her. She's really clever and funny and nice, but she can stand up for herself. God knows how many times she's yelled at me. Really dedicated and ambitious. Absolutely stunning." George smiled bashfully and played with a blade of grass.

I couldn't help the frown that tugged the corner of my lips. If life was a movie there would definitely be some romance in the main character's life. But life isn't a movie. And no matter how hard I tried to battle my growing crush on George, the feelings wouldn't go, even though we hardly saw each other all year. Perhaps I wasn't a large enough character to be considered a leading lady, even in my own life, thus underserving of my perfect man. I had a small and insignificant life. I was a squib living amongst muggles, but also with a secretive wizard who told me nothing of his double life. I was a wallflower in my own movie. How depressing is that? And to have unrequited feelings…man do I feel bad for Nate.

It was Christmas when I discovered my crush on George. Bill, Jimmy and I spent the day together eating and dancing, and went over to the Brimble's for dinner where it seemed most of the village congregated for the feast. I hadn't seen George during the last summer holidays because of his family trip to Egypt and then at Christmas he stayed at school. But I was pleasantly surprised when, as I was getting ready for bed, I found a parcel on my bed wrapped in shiny purple and green paper with a gold ribbon messily tied around it several times.

The letter had been short and sweet and I was even more surprised when it was signed from George and Fred, George's best friend and closest brother. The feeling of absolute elation, honour even, was rooted into my mind as I thought about how George talked to his brother about me. Yes, it was a privilege to get Fred's approval as George's other friend. Although I had never met him, I found myself really liking Fred.

The parcel was a box filled with little gifts. There was a thick ruby red scarf embellished with gold trimmings, a box of delightfully foreign sweets and a simple silver bracelet with amethyst gems dotted around it. The boys had noted that the bracelet was from Egypt and that amethyst represented royalty and was perfect for my title of Princess Cinderella. Not even Zoe or Nate had gotten me a collection of meaningful gifts, which made the gesture even sweeter.

"She sounds lovely," I said, sipping the last dregs of my lemonade.

"She is," George breathed out a deep laugh. "God I sound like a sap."

"Because you are one, Georgie! And just because she's not your girlfriend doesn't mean I'm stripping down into a bikini," I teased, wagging my finger in his face. His humour had definitely rubbed off on me over the years.

He threw his head back and laughed, the sun outlining every one of his freckles against his light tan. It took me all I had not to ogle at his exposed chest. "Oh, come one Elle! Nothing wrong with a bit of sun."

I rolled my eyes and stood up, taking our empty glasses and making my way to the kitchen. Sighing from the cool that the shade bought away from the sun, I placed the glasses in the sink. From the corner of my eye I saw George following me inside, grabbing his t-shirt from the chair and pulling it on. I could feel my face flushing slightly from the way his flexing muscles had me entranced. I quickly diverted my eyes to the dirty dishes before he caught me looking.

"So where's Bill?" George asked, leaning on his arms on the counter next to me.

"Dun' know. Probably working." In truth, Bill Flooed out the previous night and wasn't yet back. He was only gone for a night so I wasn't too worried. It still irked me not knowing what he was doing though.

"How's he doing?" he asked, his voice soft. George knew how badly Bill had taken Nanny Anne's death. We were certain he still wasn't entirely over it as he wasn't the same Bill I knew when he had taken me in.

I shrugged. "Same as always."

Turning the tap off, I turned to George. He was still leaning against the counter and watching me, his hair falling in his face. Without thinking I bought my hand up and pushed the few silky strands out of the way, only for them to fall back. I brushed them away again and pushed it behind his ear, lightly trailing my fingertips on his skin as I did.

"You hungry?" I asked, moving away from him and to the fruit bowl on the round table. Taking out two apples, I held one out to him.

George eyed the apple and flicked his eyes between me and the apple a few times. He pushed my hand away and took out another from the bowl, holding it extremely close to my face.

"Green, love. Did you honestly forget? Really woman, I'd've thought you'd know better by now," he said, taking a massive bite out of his green apple. I rolled my eyes and put the spare red apple back in the bowl.

"I'm sorry your highness. But one day you'll come to your senses and realise how stupid you're being."

He glared at me. He would've looked scary were it not for the apple juice on his chin. "That a threat, princess?"

"Hmmm," I drawled out, tapping my finger on my chin in an expression of thoughtfulness. "It could be…"

Throwing his half eaten apple over his shoulder, George suddenly leaped and held firmly onto my waist. I yelped in surprise.

"George! What the hell," I laughed and managed to squirm out of his hold.

"Oh no you don't!" With a yell he chased me around the table. We were both barefooted and on opposite ends of the table. I made to move to the right but George followed with exceptional speed. I stopped and sidestepped to the left, only for George to mimic my steps. George smirked. "What's wrong, princess? Stuck?"

I scoffed while trying to find an escape route. The garden door was behind me but I there was no way I would get away from him once out there. The hallway was behind George but getting around him looked impossible.

I looked down at my hand and back up to George. His eyes followed mine and they widened in realisation. Before he could utter a word I lobbed my apple at him and sprinted around, hoping the bruise forming on his head would distract him long enough. I blew a raspberry as I ran past him and squealed as I dodged his outstretched fingers.

"I'm gonna get you Ella!" I heard George yell.

My maniacal laughter grew as I reached the front door and tugged on the handle. Hands encircled my waist before I could yank open the door and George hoisted me up from behind and walked through the archway and to the living room.

"Ah-ha!" he barked and threw me down onto the sofa. He jumped on top of me, his legs on either side of mine to stop my kicking and with long nimble fingers, tickled my ribs and stomach. "Now you'll think twice before messing with a Weasley."

My eyes were squeezed tight and tears trickled down my cheeks. It had been such a long time since I had laughed so much. If I were able to think coherently I was sure I'd be blushing through my light olive skin at our current position. I couldn't even think of words let alone get any through my laughter.

Some things never change. And George was still my sunshine, even if for twice a year.

* * *

My cooking skills had improved greatly since the passing of Nanny Anne. Mrs Brimble had taught me a lot during my stay with her and although I burnt a lot when I first started cooking meals on my own, I gradually became better and managed to make edible food. I stirred the pot of sauce with meatballs and drained the pasta. Piling up two plates with steaming spaghetti, I placed them on the table with condiments and drinks and wiped my hands on my jeans.

I made my way through the archway and into the living room. Bill was sat in his armchair with a bottle on the table in front of him. The small glass was half filled with the deep amber liquid. He always came back from the wizard world with a few bottles of them. I flinched involuntarily and my hand rubbed to my thigh without thinking.

"Bill," I called out before going back to the kitchen. "Dinners up."

His thick boots were heard thumping on the hardwood floor in next to no time and he limped over to his seat. His hair was thinning and his beard was streaked with grey. Wrinkles marred his exposed skin and his tiny slits of eyes were surrounded by dark skin. One thing that was unchanged was his weight. He had first lost a lot of weight from lack of eating but he put it all back on quickly.

"Thanks, love," he said, sighing and picking up his fork. I sat down opposite him and poured lemon juice on the pasta. "How was your day?"

"Was good," I answered around a mouthful. "Cleaned up a bit, went down to see Imogen and Carley, read some and George came around for a bit." Carley was Imogen the baker's two year old daughter. I visited as much as I could because of Imogen and her husband both working, little Carley was often left hassling one of them at work.

"Haven't seen George in a while. How's he doing?"

I bit my lip to prevent the stupid smile taking over my face. I was normally good at composing my emotions but George did funny things to me. My gaze flickered to the bracelet on my wrist. "He's good."

Bill eyed me and nodded. His lip was twitched up ever so slightly in a smirk. We spoke normally but there was still an underlying awkwardness present. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't get over Bill's words before he left. They always played on my mind when we were together. He hadn't exactly apologised either, just brushed over it and carried on with life as if nothing happened.

We ate in silence for a while, the only sounds being of our forks scraping against the plates.

"I need to Floo out again tonight," Bill broke the silence. I looked up.

"Again? You were out this morning though," I said before I could stop myself. Bill had never Flooed out for wizard work twice in one day before.

"Yeah, something I really gotta do."

"Oh, ok. D'you know when you'll be back?"

He shook his head and slurped up a stray strand of spaghetti hanging off his lip, spraying sauce over his beard. "No. Should ideally be back in a few days." He looked up at me through his tiny eyes. "You'll be ok on your own? You can handle the shop with Zoe?"

"Zoe's on holiday. I could get Nate to help?"

"Sure. Whatever helps."

So many questions ran through my mind. I was desperate to know what Bill was off doing in the wizard world. It wasn't like I would be oblivious to whatever he said; I grew up in the wizarding world after all. But Bill always brushed me off or changed the topic to something muggle whenever I mentioned something relating to the magical world. He had been Flooing out every week for five years; what was he doing? What wasn't he telling me? It hurt, feeling as if I couldn't be trusted. Or maybe he was just preventing me from involving myself with every aspect of his life. After all, I'm not his daughter.

He dropped his fork into his empty plate and pushed his chair back, the legs scraping against the floor as he stood. "Thanks for dinner, love. I'll be off now."

I nodded and stood. I grabbed his plate and was walking towards the sink when Bill held my arm. I looked back at him. His expression was unreadable. Without hesitation, he leaned forwards and pressed his lips to my forehead in a light kiss, lingering for long seconds.

I stood frozen as he left through the archway. It had been a long time since Bill had shown any caring signs of affection besides the odd one-armed hug. The gesture made my eyes burn slightly as tears threatened to fall. I blinked them away and cast my eyes around the kitchen.

The Floo sounded and I was left alone again.


	8. Ottery's Bully

8\. Ottery's Bully

* * *

As it turns out, Nate was able to help out at the shop and arrived early the next morning. The weekday was slow, with many people from Ottery on holiday in some exotic land or some other dreary sect of Britain, leaving the town somewhat bare besides the undesirables.

We spent the morning catching up and restocking the shelves, taking particular interest in Bill's new order of decorative decks of playing cards. The decks ranged from intricate, overlapping designs of diamonds and Egyptian depictions, to salacious women (for the _mature_ customers) and kaleidoscopes of colours.

"What did I do to deserve her?"

I glanced up to see Nate looking out the shop window and caught sight of Mrs Pike before returning to observe a deck of cards portraying raging dragons which shimmered in direct light. "Oi, don't be so horrible, she's your mum," I said, pocketing the deck discreetly, thinking it to be an appropriate belated birthday present for George.

It always pained me to hear of Nate moan and groan endlessly about his mum. Not that I could blame him; she was terribly…loose, for lack of better word. I would much rather my position of being cast away, away from the only thing I was ever sure of and had ever known into a world where everything was new and I had to begin again, than to live with the constant talk of the town. Honestly, there was a new rumour flying around every week.

"You wouldn't be saying that if she was your mum," he grumbled, staring disgustedly at his mother flirting with her latest conquest: their neighbour Samuel something-or-other. "Honestly, she's been off with him god knows how many times now, why is he still bothering?"

"I know I wouldn't. Doesn't mean I can't tell you off for it," I replied.

"Hypocrite," he spat.

"Arse."

"Cow."

"Nutter."

"Pig."

"Wanker."

"Bitch."

"Jonathan!" Mrs Pike hurried into the shop towards her son, instantly ceasing the recurring swapping of insults. "How are you? Oh, I need to rush, Sammy's just offered to help me take the groceries home. A real gentleman!" She gushed without pausing for breath.

"Mum, he lives next door, I'm sure it's no problem," Nate said. But it was no use, everyone knew no one could talk someone down to Mrs Pike unless she started it.

"Oh nonsense, love," she waved him off and sighed. "He's so wonderful. You could learn a lot from him, Jonathan. Say, what time do you think you'll be home?"

"Late mum, I'm helping Ella and then I'll probably go and see Matt," Nate answered with a frown.

"Ah, good! Well, I'll be off now. Don't rush home, love," she rushed out the shop before hastily calling out, "Have a smashing day, Ella!"

We both stood in silence, our gazes fixed on the door Mrs Pike had just left from.

"Well, then…two guesses what she's going to be doing," I hinted with raised eyebrows. Nate sighed again.

"God, she makes me sick. And to think, I'm supposed to be the teenager sleeping around," he rubbed his face and shelved the deck of salacious women he was marvelling, no longer interested in the curves of the impossibly voluptuous sirens.

I couldn't help but laugh. "You? Sleep around? Please, everyone knows you're the Prince Charming waiting for your one true love."

He smirked. "I'd rather not be Prince Charming if he ends up with Cinderella."

"Oi! There's nothing wrong with me, thank you very much." I stretched across the counter and punched his arm.

"Ow! I never said there was, you nutter," he said, rubbing his arm. "Just that you're not my type. And besides, we all know who you want to be your Prince Charming," Nate teased.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I huffed, turning my head away to neaten out rolls of old parchment and stacks of printing paper.

"Of course you don't. _Oh, I saw George again yesterday! His hair's gotten longer. Oh, how I wish I could run my fingers through it all day…and night,_" Nate winked and jumped back to avoid my punch. "_He's definitely been working out. Ah, Nate, if only you saw him. I'm planning on an impromptu water fight next time I have him half naked in my garden. Can you imagine?_" Nate ducked behind a shelf as I chased him around the counter. I grabbed the nearest object to me – a melting chocolate bar – and lobbed it at him. "_Maybe even invite him over for a sleepover. Say, what were those aphrodisiacs your mum was talking about the other day? I'm thinking of making him a candlelight dinner…_"

"NATE!" I shrieked and lunged at him. He laughed as he skimmed past me again. I mentally cursed his athletic body from cross country.

"Slow poke!" he taunted.

"You arse! I've never said any of those things," I yelled, stretching out my fingers only for him to turn a corner.

"Oh yeah?" he ducked away from a stapler shooting past his head. "Just as I walked in you started telling me about how he straddled you on your sofa yesterday. _Nate! His thighs are so strong and muscly, but lean at the same time. Just imagine what those legs can do,_" he said, his voice turning unnaturally falsetto and his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

"Shut up!" I shouted, but I couldn't stop the laughter breaking out. As soon as Nate walked into the shop I recounted seeing George yesterday after months. I told him everything, from him getting me into the sun and his embarrassing moment of insinuating I strip, to him chasing me around the house, me making us a hearty lunch of baked salmon and then of George detailing an erotic novel off the top of his head after I refused to show him my book, full with thrusts, grunts and moans (I can't lie, that was far more entertaining than the book on Hobbits on an adventure).

I was knocked out of my reminiscing when Nate suddenly tripped on a stray item and stumbled. I took the chance and jumped on his back, wrapping my arms and legs around him in a near death grip.

"Ah-ha! Gotcha!"

It had taken Mr Babbington to come in and purchase a receipt book to break us up, however reluctantly. But of course, it didn't last long. Shortly after he left, a girl from Nate's class had entered, instantly shutting him up from another made-up fantasy I had supposedly told him. He avoided eye contact with her and blushed when I asked him to introduce us. This, of course, led to him unleashing his stammering, shy self in which he barely got her name out before her watch beeped and she rushed out.

"God, you're a mess," I stated rolling my eyes.

"Shove off," he huffed.

"Whatever happened to Zoe?"

Nate shrugged. "Just friends," he replied shortly. I nodded slowly. Poor Nate.

"Care for a cuppa?" I called out as I retreated to the back where a corner was used as a make-shift kitchen.

"Sure," he yelled back.

The door jingled again, alerting us to a new customer. I popped the kettle on and left Nate to deal with the customer, knowing he could handle it as he had done so many times before.

I watched the kettle as steam slowly flowed out, curling in wisps in the air. If only I wasn't a squib and could speed up the process, like Bill. My thoughts seemed to drift to my magical, but not-so-magical blood a lot lately. Would I have been the perfect little Slytherin for daddy? Cunning and ambitious? Or was I bound to a more intelligent lifestyle, like my Ravenclaw mother, wise beyond her years and could puzzle her way out of the most startling riddle?

Shortly after my eleventh birthday I asked Bill to tell me everything – life at the historically famous wizarding school of Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, where I spent summers of my childhood basking under the sun with ice cream, the feeling of holding and bonding with your wand for the first time, feeling the magic course through your veins with a simple touch, Quidditch, both professionally and at school. I had stayed up all night, anticipating the arrival of my Hogwarts letter, a much heated topic for magical eleven year olds all over Britain. I hoped against hope that I could prove my parents wrong, that I was as magical as Abigail, my little sister who had abilities galaxies above me. That I could laugh and dance in their faces that they were wrong, and that I didn't need them.

But like all little girls, I wanted them to be proud.

I gradually grew out of that frame of mind. Why would I need them when I had Nanny Anne and Bill simply happy to have me around, regardless of my magical capabilities? I didn't need a proper family. Not like Zoe or George, with their brothers and loving parents, doting on them over the littlest of things. Not even like Nate with his mother who, although didn't care very much for the increasing volume of rumours carrying her name or reputation, would do anything for her son. No, I was the one who had to grow up before I was ready, with people other than my biological parents. And I was fine with that now.

The kettle clicked off and I hurried to pour in two mugs. Extricating the tea bags and splashing in some milk, I grabbed both mugs and entered the front of the shop.

Now then, Prunella Trunchball was the dreaded bully my age who had no quarrels with picking fights with anyone. Her weight was with her, and no one dared mess with a girl that butch.

Nate's classmates on the other hand…

The group of infamous boys didn't stray their attention to younger children, or even dared confront those older like the fearless Trunchball. They gladly transfixed themselves on those their own age and hassled them until their leaving year.

Stephen Casey, the ringleader of said infamous group, was a force to be reckoned with. Aside from his steely grey eyes, he was well known for his stormy temper and brutal fights, sending off a fair amount of people to hospital in his time. Stephen was the exception to the boys not drifting from the comfort zone of their culprits. He had no issue with confronting those older or younger, boys or girls. His lackeys (or sheep, as Zoe referred to them as) only encouraged his endeavours. But they were hardly friends – Stephen was often caught tempting them against each other; survival of the fittest.

Zoe and Nate never spent much time dwelling on the activities of Casey and his boys, and I had never experienced anything from them first hand. So it was shocking, to say the least, when I came into the storefront to see Stephen leaning on the counter with three of his sheep.

I walked up to Nate and took in his hateful glare and furious red skin. It took a lot to get Nate riled up but when he did, he closed up, keeping everything inside until it dissipated. I put the mugs down on the shelf behind the counter and placed a hand on his clenched fist. He calmed slightly under my touch – something which was not omitted by Stephen.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, eyeing our hands and then directing his gaze to me. "Natey's little girlfriend come to save the day. Wha's matter, Nate, getting bored without Zo?"

My blood pounded as I realised what he was insinuating. Nate tensed again under my touch but stayed silent.

"Can't say I blame you though, someone like Zo can really take it out of you, trust me, _I know._ I can just imagine her now, all tanned and fit. Did'ja know she sunbathes naked? Hates tan lines that girl does," he continued, watching us burn with a smirk. "So, what's this one for, eh, keeping your energy up before she gets back? I never thought you had it in ya, I see you're finally learning from your trollop of a mother," he chortled, and his sheep followed his lead.

Now, I wasn't one for confrontation. Especially after my one incident with the Trunchball; Nanny Anne's disappointment supressed my need to fight back and I had never done so since. But Nate was the quiet, shy one, the golden boy who never fought. And my patience was wearing thin.

"Come on love, got nothing to say?" he teased, suspecting my growing anger. I gritted my teeth and held my chin up high despite the fear flooding through me. He tutted and leaned forward, grabbing my chin in his long fingers. His dark brown hair fell in his eyes slightly, making him look more menacing than I would have liked. I shifted my face out of his hand and glared.

"Bit of a minger compared to Zo, ain't she, Stephen?" a sheep laughed.

"No, no, this one's quite a beauty, Tom," Stephen said, obviously leering at me. I so desperately wanted to cover under his gaze but managed to hold off.

"Shut up," I said as the boys began laughing again. Embarrassment flared through me from the slight shake in my suddenly small voice.

Another of his sheep laughed louder. "Ohoho, this one's got a mouth on her, eh, Stephen."

"Just like, Zo," the one called Tom said.

"Ella, you put that mouth to good use like Zoe as well, yeah?" Stephen said. Disgust filled me but I was too shocked to retort. He knew my name. How on earth did someone like Stephen Casey know my name?

I was saved from responding or suffering from further humiliation.

"You don't know a damn thing about Zoe, or Ella, so shut your mouth," Nate growled, barely above a whisper, the tremble in his voice clearly visible. I rubbed my thumb over his knuckles to calm him from his sudden outburst.

The boys all stopped laughing and turned to Nate. Stephen smirked mockingly at Nate. "What was that, Natey?"

"I said, you don't know a damn thing about the girls, so shut, your bloody mouth."

Stephen's smirk disappeared and was replaced by a murderous glare. I pushed Nate back slightly and stepped in between the two boys despite the counter separating them.

"Nate," I warned quietly.

"I can talk about whoever the hell I want, tosser," Stephen said. I looked over my shoulder to see him leaning over the counter once again.

"Nate, leave it," I whispered when I felt Nate make a move forward and pushed harder on his chest, knowing that a fight with Stephen Casey was not going to go down well. Nate had no experience in a fight after all, the only thing he would successfully be able to do is run away. And although I'm sure that would save his life, it certainly wouldn't do anything for his reputation.

"Yeah, Nate, get your slut to keep you from being beat the shit out of," a sheep taunted.

"Or is she the fighter?" another winked.

"Come on baby, fight with me." The sheep's voices all overlapped in a jeering song of catcalls and whistles.

My blood boiled, but I counted to ten and breathed deeply as Nanny Anne once taught me before turning to the boys.

"Out," I ordered.

"Oooh," the boys chortled, grinning at each other. "You gonna come with us, love?"

My hands were shaking tremendously. Nate must have noticed as he grabbed one and interlocked our fingers with a squeeze. But this did nothing to smother my fear and disgust and anger.

"I _said,_ get out," I commanded again, my voice louder and firmer in false confidence. What could I do if they refused?

Shaking my hand free of Nate's, I stormed around the counter and towards the door, but a hand grabbed my wrist and yanked me towards the hard body. I looked up to see Stephen leering down my black top before meeting my eyes. I squirmed under his grip to free myself but he only intensified his hold on me.

"Such a fidgety one, aren't you, Ella?" he tutted in a low voice. "Am I going to have to…calm you down? Get you to relax? Tame you?" He lifted my hand and brought it up to his face. Keeping his eyes fixed on mine, he pressed my wrist against his nose and inhaled deeply, then dropped it lower to his mouth and licked my palm slowly, in a move that could be interpreted as seductive. I was positively burning. Without thinking, I flexed my fingers and pinched the skin on his face tightly until he let go.

"Ah! Feisty one, aren't you. Bitch," he growled. I stumbled back, wide-eyed, staring at the red mark beside his nose. It reddened further, and then a slither of blood seeped out. Oh no. I did _not _just provoke Stephen Casey. I did _not _just make Stephen Casey bleed. I did _not_ just give Stephen Casey an incentive to come after me.

But I did.

The noises coming from Stephen's lackeys were a jumble of hushed whispers and lurid goading. Blood pumped in my ears, blurring out the barrage of cries. I watched Stephen press his finger to the pierced skin and look at the droplets of blood staining it. He chuckled.

"Damn, Ella. Real feisty." He lifted his eyes for a split second and smirked. "I gotta say, I like my girls gutsy."

What. The. Hell. The three words echoed in my mind, trying to get a hold on the thought that Stephen didn't look like he wanted to kill me – which I'm sure he was more than capable of. He stepped forward slowly, like a predator stalking his prey.

"Ella!" Nate yelled. It was then I noticed that two of Stephen's sheep had a hold on each of his arms, keeping him away from me. He was struggling quite a bit, either itching to get a good hit or to pull me away…I would bet on the latter.

"Ella…" Stephen crooned into my ear, his finger trailing my cheek and his mouth painfully close to my face. I almost flinched. Almost.

"Is there a problem here?"

Nate stopped struggling and was let go, the boys all staring at the newcomer by the door.

"'Course not, just popped in to say hi, didn't we boys?" Stephen answered. His sheep all murmured agreements.

"Looks like you're about done. Now get lost," George said with the most menacing glare on his face.

"Or what, ginger?" Stephen sneered.

I subtly shook my head at George, hoping he saw the slight movement. Stephen was taller than George, but George made up for the few inches difference with muscles and strength. He crossed his arms over his chest, inadvertently flexing his muscles.

"Or I get the authorities to come in and make sure you never lay a finger on Ella again."

Stephen scoffed but said no more, and left the shop. Even Stephen Casey knew when he lost. But Stephen Casey never really lost.

The remaining boys stumbled out the door, one by one, all eyeing up George, and one – Tom, I think – even bumping his shoulder on the way out.

I exhaled a deep breath I had been holding in and rushed over to Nate. "Are you ok? They didn't hurt you, did they? Oh, I can't believe that! Those bloody – "

"Ella! For god's sake, you barmy nut, I'm fine."

He was indeed fine, I found out as I checked him over. Not even a bruise. "You're sure?"

"Yes, now – oi, where's the ginger?"

_George! _

I whipped around to where George had been. But no one was there. "What…?" I ran out the shop and surveyed the small crowd in the High Street for any side of his bright hair. But there was nothing. How could he disappear so fast?

"Well…that was bloody weird," Nate stated as I walked back in.

I couldn't agree more.

"Stephen…has he really been with Zoe?" I hesitated to ask, but I knew I had to. Zoe wasn't the type of girl to go off with someone like Casey, but a lot of girls had fallen prey to him before. Why was Zoe any different? She was possibly the most gorgeous girl in Ottery, of course boys would notice her. But had she really been…intimate, with the perverted delinquent?

Nate shrugged.

The shop remained fairly empty after that, so I decided to close up early. Nate left after a quick snack at Imogen's, where I stocked up on cookies and muffins, and I hurried home with the twilight casting an ethereal orange glow over Ottery. Bill still wasn't back, so I cooked up a quick dinner of shrimp pasta and retreated to the pistachio-green sofa and put on the television. It was very small and hardly ever used; I mainly used it as a source for comfort as background noise in the empty house. The magical residue of the Floo only disrupted the signal, never causing it to burst like the light bulb after Bill used a levitating charm.

The images swirled around on screen – something about a short, dodgy London salesman with a lanky brother in a pub. It was one of Bill's favourites.

"Ella," a voice sang. I shifted in my seat, noticing an ache in my lower back. I must have fallen asleep on the sofa.

"Oi, get up you lazy arse."

Blinking my eyes open, I was met with red.

"Bill?" I asked.

He chuckled. "Nah mate, sorry to disappoint."

I blinked some more, clearing my vision. "George?" I sat up and noticed it was indeed, George. "What are you doing here? How did you get in?"

"You left the door open, idiot," he replied. His smile left his face and he turned strangely serious. "You okay?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"With those boys? In the afternoon?"

Realisation dawned, and I shivered from the thought of Stephen so close, his tongue on my skin, his eyes burning through my clothes. I felt suddenly very uncomfortable in my own home. "I'm fine. Where did you go?"

George pulled on his ear and explained. "I only popped in to see you – good thing I did as well. My brother came with me today and I had to hurry back before he noticed I left him."

"Your brother was with you? What, Fred?" I asked, excited. "Well, why didn't you bring him?"

"After seeing that git all over you, I guess I just didn't want to ruin your first meeting," he shrugged and offered a pitying smile.

"Oh, you idiot!" I cried and hit his arm. "I've been dying to meet Fred for ages now. You should've brought him in."

"Next time, promise."

"Swear?"

George rolled his eyes and crossed his fingers over his heart. "Yeah, yeah, I swear."

"Good. Hungry?"

"Always," he winked. My stomach fluttered on my way to the kitchen. Who knew the same gesture could bring on completely different reactions contingent on the person? George's winks were always playful and sweet, not the creepy kind where you'd rather melt into a puddle and sink into the sewage. I grabbed the bags of cookies and muffins and returned to the living room.

"Ooh, Immy's. My favourite. Thanks, love," George said, rubbing his hands together and taking a large bite out of a blueberry muffin.

"How the hell do you stay so slim? You eat like a pig," I commented, distracting myself from the flurry in my chest.

George flexed his arm. "You're just jealous."

"Of what, exactly?" I snorted.

"My impeccable muscles, duh," he winked again and flexed his other arm._ Oh, please, stop doing that, there's only so much restraint a girl has._

"As if I want arms like that, no thank you. If you hadn't noticed, boys don't exactly like burly girls," I said, spraying cookie crumbs over us both.

"Oh yeah, and they really want someone who can't speak without spitting out all their food," he retorted dryly. I stuck my tongue at him. He shook his head and turned to the television. "What's this?"

"Only Fools and Horses. Bill's really into it. It's actually quite good, you should watch it." I explained the show, detailing the characters of Del boy, Rodney, Uncle Albert and, my favourite, Trigger.

Throughout my description, I caught George staring at me several times. The only light in the room was the flashing TV, casting shadows across his handsome face. When he saw that I caught him staring he didn't move, he just carried on, as if it were as normal as the need to pee first thing in the morning. I didn't know what to make of it, but to deflect the uncomfortable atmosphere I began describing another TV show. I couldn't tell you what is was about; I was pretty sure I was making it up as I went along, just to have something to say.

Which was another odd thing, I always found our silences comfortable. But today, I couldn't get over the tension I was feeling. Perhaps it was from what he had witnessed earlier in the day, I mused.

George smirked at the ending of fictitious TV plot.

"And that's an actual thing?" he asked.

"Well, yeah?" It wasn't supposed to come out as a question, but I could have sworn George wasn't that close to me before.

"So, the ginger alien finally fixed his spaceship but didn't want to leave the human he fell in love with, and then the townspeople tried forcing him away from her. Then she killed herself. That right?" he surmised, smirking.

God, did I really say that? "Umm…yes."

George chuckled and ruffled my hair. "You'll have to show me that one sometime mate."

I swatted his hand away. "Ge'roff."

"Touchy," he tutted, and leaned back on the sofa, his legs wide open and his arms spread over the back of the sofa. He quirked an eyebrow at me. "What?"

"Shouldn't you be going home?" I suggested. It was rather late – past midnight now. He had never come so late at night before.

"You wound me, dear princess! Why, does my company not satisfy you?" he cried in mock anguish, one hand over his heart.

I giggled. "Your presence has overstayed its welcome. What would your mum say if she knew you were out this late? At a girls no less?"

"She'd be shot to get rid of me," George winked. "And she'd be over the moon to hear I'm mature enough to find a girl."

I lifted an eyebrow. "No you're not."

George laughed. "What are you doing to your face?"

"What?" I relaxed my face and lifted my hands to assess it. Everything seemed normal.

"Your face scrunched up –" he paused through his laughter to gather his breath. His face was bright red. "Do it again!"

Without thinking, I quirked an eyebrow again and George burst out into a new round of laughter. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was silently laughing, his body shaking with each breath.

"What?" I demanded, frustrated.

"You – you can't lift your – eyebrow!" he replied, taking in lungful's of air.

"Huh?"

He shuffled closer to me on the sofa and lifted a finger, tracing the outline of my eyebrows. When he got to the middle of my left eyebrow he pushed it up and down, up and down, sniggering.

I pushed his hand away. "Sod off, git, or you won't get your birthday present," I threatened as I felt the outline of the cards in my pocket dig into my leg.

George made a show of lifting an eyebrow. "My birthday was over two months ago."

"Well, if you don't want it then…"

"NO – no. I'll be good," he removed his finger from my eyebrow and clasped his hands in his lap, adopting a childlike smile of innocence which contrasted greatly with the trademark mischievous glint in his eyes.

I giggled. "Ok, only so you'll hurry up and go, I have work in the morning again." I raised my hips to get better access to my pocket and took out the deck of cards. As soon as I sat down properly George snatched it out of my hands and began inspecting them in silence.

"So," I started after a moment's silence. "What d'you think?"

George looked up and shrugged. "S'alright, I s'spose."

"What, just alright?" I huffed, frustrated at his lack of appreciation. "Well fine then, that's the last present I ever get you. Now get out."

"Oi, relax will you," he chuckled. "I'm kidding. These are amazing." George flicked on the table lamp and angled the card around, watching the picture change from a quiescent blue dragon to a roaring one.

"You'd better like them."

George looked up again with a grin, then raised another card to the lamp light. "I do, honest. How do they get the picture to change?"

"Oh, I don't really know. It's called lenticular printing and I think it has something to do with getting different pictures and combining them together somehow. I never really got the details," I answered, surprised that he would ask.

"Thanks, by the way." He pocketed the deck and got up. "I should be off now, mum has a habit of checking in our room at random times. Honestly, you'd think she thought we were up to no good."

I giggled knowing his room was probably his lair for mischief. I got up and led him to the door. "See ya."

"Bye, love." I opened the door, and then George did something he'd never done before. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to my cheek. It was only a quick peck – friendly, I kept telling myself – but it left me standing there long after he had gone.


	9. Unexpected Visitors

9\. Unexpected Visitors

* * *

Going to work was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. I caught Stephen hanging around the shop almost every morning, sometimes with his sheep, sometimes without, but he was always gone by the time my lunch break came around. He never came in or tried to talk – he just stood there, watching. It nerved me so much that I almost wanted to get Nate to walk with me, despite me living right next door. But then Nate would only make matters worse, I kept telling myself.

George visited me at home a lot, always after work. We spent our evenings watching Only Fools and Horses and whatever else was on. Other times we spent hiking through the woods, or sitting in my garden. We never did have that impromptu water fight.

George always had a new story to tell, a new crazy idea, a new addition to his bucket list. That's what I loved about him: he was always dreaming and he never limited himself, and he was always original. Instead of learning a new language, he wanted to create one. He wanted to beat his younger brother at chess, just once. And then once more. He wanted to design his own pack of cards with lenticular printing. He wanted to take his family on holiday on the other side of the world. He wanted to break hearts before falling in love. He wanted a successful business and to make a name for his family, to make his parents proud. He wanted to swim in the deepest ocean and jump off the highest cliff and waterfall. He wanted to juggle with sparklers at one of his siblings weddings. He wanted his unconventional wedding (I was too scared to ask) outside in the rain. He wanted to name his son after his brother. He wanted to die laughing at one hundred years old. Maybe older.

And before I knew it, summer was over. My last year at school and Zoe and Nate's last year as residents in Ottery St. Catchpole before moving on to their next life stage at university; Nate in Nottingham and Zoe in London.

The hallways were filled with the chatter of students, catching up on the gossip from over the holidays, the wistful tales of a summer romance, and embarrassing stories from foreign lands. I hurried to my last class of the day, hoping it wouldn't drag like all the rest had.

Sitting down, I stared out the window beside me, sighing and thought about what George was doing. He never delved much into his school, he always skirted around it when reciting a prank. Was he making a move on his crush, the girl he delightfully described as perfect? Or was he initiating the start of the new school term with mischief and mayhem? I sighed, anything he was doing was surely worlds better than was I was suffering.

Loud guffaws from the other side of the room broke my trance and I glanced over to see the Trunchball. I noticed some things in my once-over of her: she had lost a bit of weight, not much, but it was still an improvement. Her braces were finally off, leaving straight, faintly stained teeth. Her tiny nose still sunken into her chubby face. And her snake like eyes trained on me. Once I returned her gaze she smirked, and coughed over the ringing of the bell. Her crowd of minions surrounding her all burst out into cruel laughter and turned to take in my reaction. Prunella hacked even louder, attracting the attention of students walking by outside the room. I gritted my teeth and swivelled my head to look back outside the window, hoping the bright sun would calm by boiling blood.

Once Prunella found out that I was unresponsive to her mockery and bullying, she started on a different approach to rile me – mocking the death of Nanny Anne. I was twelve when she first attempted this new approach, and if Zoe and Nate were not with me, I was sure I would have sprung on her. But then Nanny Anne's disappointed face burned into my mind and I composed myself. Ashamed that I had let my raw emotions get the best of me, I vowed never to act so brash again.

Thoughts of Nanny Anne were always accompanied by Bill and I instantly became worried. He hadn't come back from the wizarding world. It was the longest he'd been gone without visiting, even if for a day. Was he in danger? No, he said someone would come and tell me if something had happened. But he had been gone for the entire summer, he hadn't wished me a good start to the new school year. What else could be the matter? Nothing else made sense. He had to be in some sort of trouble for him not to come back.

School flew by in a blur of classes, homework, gossip and more mocking from the Trunchball. Work at the paper shop wasn't much better; Stephen still hung around as much as possible – which shouldn't have been much what with it being his last year of college as well – and Zoe and Nate weren't available to help out much. The stress of exams and the stress of running the shop everyday was building up, and I was afraid I was close to boiling point – any longer and I'd erupt.

September and much of October dragged on like this, school and work, school and work, in a repetitive stream. The summer weather had long since departed and the autumn winds swept through Britain, dampening my mood further. The nippy air and foggy mists always brought back bad memories, bringing with it the nightmares that periodically made an appearance.

I trudged down the stairs and to the kitchen. The sky outside was dark – it was far earlier than I normally woke up. But I had another nightmare. Blips of it flashed in my mind every now and then, but it was otherwise forgotten, lost in the void between deep slumber and awakening.

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and blinked to clear my vision. Last thing I need is to walk into a table and bruise myself. Grabbing a glass, I poured myself some water and gulped it down. The house was still quiet; I couldn't hear Bill's snoring. He still wasn't back. I sighed and sat down at the table, resting my head on my arms.

A shadow crossing the floor caught my attention and I lifted my head to get a better look. I quickly checked the time on the clock: 6.22am. My heartbeat quickened as the shadow whizzed past again, much quicker this time. I surveyed the table before my eyes landed on the knife rack. I gripped the handle in my hand until my knuckles turned white and held it out in front of me with trembling fingers.

Now, this was the bit where I either stupidly go and open the door to confront the intruder, or stupidly wait, watching the garden door only for the trespasser to jump out behind me and kill me without a second thought. It was a lose-lose situation no matter how I looked at it.

Before I could make a decision, a thump on the garden door made me jump, and the knife to momentarily slip in my hands. I could make out a small figure, almost as if it were curled into a ball. When I was close enough to make out the shape I sighed and thrust the knife back into the rack.

"Oh, you stupid cat," I muttered, opening the back door and letting in Kiwi. It meowed nastily, stretching its claws threateningly.

"Why the hell are you here if you hate me so much?" I glared at Kiwi, watching it stalk through the hallway and to the living room.

The heavens opened up to a torrential rain storm that afternoon. I hurried to my small Vauxhall across the road from the school in Ottery and slipped inside. I leaned my head back against the seat, droplets of rain running down my face and neck, my clothes clinging to my skin chilling me. Turning on the heat, I drove slowly back home. No one really bothered to focus on an underage teenager driving a car – it helped that Zoe was the one who brought it for me though.

The rain thundered down the closer I got to home. It got so bad that at one point I was barely even moving. I groaned in frustration when a bratty kid ran out in front of the car and skidded in the road. I honked my horn, only to be greeted with a crude hand gesture.

"Brat," I grumbled, and continued squinting through the rain. I definitely would not be opening the shop today.

The house was cold when I entered, causing an outbreak of shivers on my skin through my sweater. I quickly turned on the kettle, most of the lights and ran to change into thick, dry clothes – I could already feel my nose stuffing.

Thunder boomed through the house as I sat in the kitchen with a large mug of tea, relishing in the heat it spread through me. My nose twitched under the steam. Seconds passed before it twitched again, although more violently this time. Without warning, I let out an almighty sneeze, sloshing the tea over the sides of the mug and onto my clothes, the boiling beverage scolding my numb skin.

"AH!" I yelped, dropping the mug on the floor and holding the clinging, now stained material away from my skin. The tea pooled on the floor and pieces of chipped glass lay scattered around my feet. "Great," I mumbled, feeling my throat tighten from built up mucus. Could this day get any worse?

I hobbled over the broken mug and attempted to pull my new sweater over my head, but I underestimated how wet – and hot, it was. The garment clung to my undershirt, which in turn stuck to my burned skin. I cried at the feeling of my skin peeling, and stopped pulling the clothes off.

Another rack of thunder. The momentary distraction of the boom made me jump, and I landed on a large piece of glass. I yelled out as the glass pierced my skin and I jumped away from the linoleum floor to escape any more disasters. Plopping down on the rug in the hallway, I assessed my foot and noticed blood seeping through my sock. My eyes burned from tears gathering and I bit my lip to hold in the scream as I yanked out the glass.

Another roar sounded, much closer than the raging thunder outside. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that the sound was familiar. Kiwi ran out of the living room and up the stairs with a small shriek.

"Bill," I whispered, the tears now threatening to break through even harder as I recognised the Floo. My emotions were a cacophony of the worst concert from an atrocious band, the heavy rock kind where you can't make anything out through the murderous migraine. I hopped up onto my one good foot – I wonder how long that will last – and limped/bounced through the archway. "Bill," I called out louder, my voice strangled with mucus and the lump which refused to swallow down.

I leaned in the archway, my hands on the walls either side of me to support the weight my foot was no longer able to. My eyes widened at the garish lavender and blue I was met with, the long beard I was surprised was as clean and pristine as it was, the twinkling eyes through spectacles watching my reaction and dishevelled state in amusement.

This man was not Bill.

"Oh," was all I manage to get out. _Stupid._

"Hello there, Miss Ella, I presume?" he greeted, is voice smooth and old, lacking Bill's thick, gravelly brogue. I nodded. I was sure I'd never seen him before, but he was oddly familiar to me still. "Of course. I believe Bill is your guardian, yes?" I nodded again, more alert now that he mentioned Bill. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Professor Dumbledore, of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry."

My eyes widened. This was _the _Dumbledore! Stories, facts and scornful mocking from my childhood rocketed to the forefront of my mind concerning the man in front of me. I couldn't believe it. The throbbing of my foot and throat were completely wiped from my mind.

Then his face lost all sense of humour and kindness and turned solemn, the twinkle in his eye lost.

_No…_


	10. Salvation in a Magical Land

10\. Decisions Decisions

* * *

I don't remember moving from the archway and onto the armchair – Nanny Anne's armchair that had been vacant since her death. If I had been paying attention I would have noticed the tea I was holding was in the mug I had broken not moments ago. The tea which I was sure should have been burning my hands. But I felt nothing. My body was numb; I couldn't feel my injured foot, my hands, my stuffy throat.

My eyes were fixed on the scorch mark above the fireplace. It held no significance to me – it had been there long before I arrived in Ottery St. Catchpole. But it was the only thing I could focus on distantly without my eyes burning.

Fifteen years old and I was victim to yet another tragedy, another death of a loved one. I told myself I was lucky, that there were millions of children and families in third world countries losing someone every day, living in fear every waking moment. But I wasn't in a third world country. I wasn't in the middle of a war, yet my family were dead. And this wasn't fair. I didn't deserve this. I must have been a despicable person in a past life to deserve this: the disownment, being ostracised, the deaths.

Dumbledore's words echoed in my head. "_I feel we have met on the most unfortunate of circumstances, Ella. I deeply apologise to inform you of Bill…_"I didn't listen to the rest of his speech. I didn't want to hear it. I was back in my eight year old mentality, wanting to cry and lash out and crawl in a corner away from everyone but wanting comfort and love simultaneously, for someone to brave my immature struggling and hold me.

The lavender and blue of his robes were still from the corner of my eyes. He sat patiently on the pistachio-green sofa, a mug of his own sat on the coffee table. How long had we sat like this? In silence, contemplating nothing. Well, I speak for myself. Dumbledore was probably deciding what to do with me. He could leave me, being the bearer of bad news and leave me to wallow alone. Or he could offer me some company, for however long. Not many other options, I guess.

"When did he…?" I croaked, not daring to finish the question. But I didn't have to, Dumbledore understood and offered the tiniest smile.

"Yesterday. I believe you are aware of his…lineage?" I nodded. "Well then, as wizards, we are required to bury the fallen as soon as possible. I'm afraid to say it has been done," Dumbledore said in his soft voice. I was glad I wouldn't have to deal with another funeral, Nanny Anne's was enough to last me a lifetime – I never wanted to participate in another one again.

"Where is he…?"

"In the Wizarding world. It is near his childhood home, in Scotland. It is what he asked for."

We succumbed into silence once again. Being of pureblood descent to those likely to aristocrats, I was taught never to question things, that fate is not to be doubted and whatever will be, will be. None of that mattered now. Questions whirred around in my head. How did Bill die? What had he been doing that demanded to be kept a secret? Was he involved in illicit activity? Who killed him? Were they the same people who'd hunted him down during the War? How did he die? (No – scratch that, I'd rather not know.)

The mug slipped from my unresponsive fingers, and I was back in the kitchen, the scolding water burning my skin, the glass piercing my foot, the blood imprinting my footsteps on the shiny floor. But this time it didn't fall. It stopped an inch from the ground, floating in the air. I watched as it soared higher and higher and drifted onto the table with a _clink._ Dumbledore's lip twitched and he lowered his wand.

"I have other matters to discuss, Miss Ella."

I looked up and nodded. Being in the muggle world for so long I had forgotten what it was like to be in the presence of magic. It blew me away. I was nothing more than a muggle, I mused, watching in fascination the wonders of mundane magic that even a magical child could perform.

"Bill cared greatly for you, as I'm sure you are aware," I was not, for he had mentioned many times before that he felt compelled to care for me, after Nanny Anne. But I stayed silent. "And he asked a great favour of me." He paused. I noted this man was certainly one for dramatics. "He wished for me to be your guardian."

My breath caught in my throat.

"Now, this took a great deal of thought," Dumbledore continued, "but Bill was a good man – a _remarkable_ man. And after hearing of your…circumstances, I feel there is no reason for me not to care for you as Bill would have wanted. However, there are certain terms we must agree to."

I inwardly scoffed. Of course my life would be determined by a contract.

"I assure you that not all these will dictate you in any way, merely, they are guidelines, of sorts, to ensure your safety. Nothing at all like a contract, if you will," his lip upturned ever so slightly in a sort of smirk. I gaped. Had he read my mind? No, surely not. "But first, we must discuss your living arrangements."

"What of them?" I asked. I didn't care to think of moving, but what was there here for me now? I had no one to look after me here – not that that mattered entirely; Nanny Anne brought me up to look after myself as an independent woman.

"You may, if you wish, stay here. My visits will not stray from the weekends as I will be attending my duties as Headmaster of Hogwarts. You can continue your muggle education here and stay with your friends, working up to a muggle future in this world. I'm sure you can find someone to share your week with," he said. I should have been happy, being able to stay as I was. But for some reason I hesitated.

"And my other option?" I asked. I held my breath in anticipation.

His eyes twinkled again behind his spectacles and his lips turned up behind his beard. "Or, you may come to Hogwarts with me, where you can talk to me whenever you feel is appropriate. You can work, with pay, and even study in your spare time. What you study, is up to you."

"What does that mean, study what I like? What, you mean Hogwarts' classes?" I interrupted.

"Yes, you may. I can offer you private tuition with the Professors and give you all the necessary books. Your exams will be in private also, although you will be exempt from the practical. Your qualifications in these will aid you in finding a future job in the wizarding world. A Nursing Healer, perhaps, where not much magical ability is necessary, you could shadow a Healer and offer non-magical assistance. I hear that a few muggle practices are becoming more common. Working in an apothecary, a shopkeeper, anything without the demand of a wand really. We even have a squib working in the school, a Mr Argus Filch."

My heart pounded in my ears as he went on. I couldn't believe what he was offering me. In essence, it was the childhood I had missed out on. It was within my reach right now, just a small stretch and I'd be able to hold it, grasp it and never let go. I'd be back in the Wizarding world, I'd be _home._

"Will you need more time to decide, Ella?" Dumbledore asked and broke my thoughts.

The pros were bouncing around in my head, the cons completely over the horizon and on the other side of the world. I couldn't let this opportunity go. It was where Bill was born and raised, where he returned to before his last days on Earth. I could go, to honour Bill if nothing else. Surely he would want that, what he always wanted. And it was where I was born. And this Filch, he would understand and help me. He was just like me. And with Dumbledore just a corridor away…

"I've decided," I said.

Dumbledore smiled, as if reading the answer in my eyes. "I must warn you, Ella, to think very carefully before coming to a decision. This will impact your entire life, returning to the magical world. Are you willing to sacrifice your muggle life, away from your friends and education?"

I should have listened attentively to the warning in his voice. He was surely hinting at something. But I didn't care.

"I'm sure."

Dumbledore nodded. "Of course. Would you be willing to leave now? I will lead you to your dorm and sort you with everything you need."

"Yes, now's perfect." I wasn't sure if the shaking of my hands was due to excitement or nervousness – most likely the latter. I was anxious, there was no denying that. "I'll just go and pack," I said, and stood up from the armchair to pack my belongings.

I stumbled over Kiwi up the stairs – I wasn't aware she was still here – and threw everything I touched into a bag.

Back downstairs, I was confronted with a thought. "Dumbledore, sir. The shop – Bill's shop, who'll look after it?" I asked.

"I will deal with that, Ella. Now, are you all packed?"

"Yes, sir."

"And the pet, are you bringing it with you?" Dumbledore smiled down at the cat nuzzling against his leg and stroked her fur.

"No, it's not mine. Shoo, get lost Kiwi, go home," I shooed her out the door. "I'm ready sir."

I turned back to Dumbledore to see him standing by the fireplace, the large green flames enticing me forward. He nodded to me and I followed, standing beside him in the fireplace.

"Hold onto my arm, Ella. You may not be familiar with the sensations from the Floo," he suggested. I held onto his arm tightly, my other hand gripping my bag.

I quickly surveyed the room to see if I had missed anything. I looked up to Dumbledore to see him gazing down questioningly at me, his blue eyes asking me the all-important question: _are you definitely sure? You can still back out… _I nodded firmly, cast a quick mental goodbye to the odd armchairs sitting side-by-side.

Dumbledore's voice spoke loud and firm, "Hogwarts School, Dumbledore's Office."

And I was consumed with the free-falling feeling, the sudden weight and lightness in my stomach and my feet floating off the ground.


	11. No Tyrant as Merciless as Pain

**Disclaimer: No tyrant as merciless as pain - Stephen King**

* * *

11\. No Tyrant as Merciless as Pain

* * *

The first day of Hogwarts was by far the hardest. The night was spent sleeping peacefully after a quick meeting with Dumbledore and then once I woke up everything sunk in.

Bill was dead. I wouldn't wake up to make him breakfast, lunch or dinner anymore. No more anticipating his arrival through the Floo. No more manning his shop and having surprise visits from him. I won't ever hear his deafening snores again. He wouldn't ever drink another drop of firewhiskey after a particularly arduous day. He was with Nanny Anne; where he belonged. Where he longed to be since her death six years ago, leaving their vacant armchairs side-by-side, just as they had been throughout their years. The tears I shed only lasted that day. Since then I only felt a sharp stab in my chest where I'm sure my heart was close to breaking. What else was there left for it to carry on beating for?

There is no tyrant as merciless as pain.

The second day was easier. My dorm was shared with house elves, hidden behind an enchanted cupboard in the kitchen. Whenever the devious students opened it, it would reveal dusty and chipped plates, cobwebs inhabiting the corner with a spider or two. Dumbledore flourished his wand and I was able to enter the dorm with the other house elves. They kept me company, teaching me the wonders of Hogwarts meals and helping me adjust to the difference.

Then came the studying.

The hallways were silent apart from the raging October winds outside the castle walls as I turned the familiar corners I had become somewhat acquainted to. No, scratch that – I would've surely found myself on the opposite side of the castle (maybe even deep in the Forbidden Forest) if it were not for my guide, the infamous Filch, murmuring soothingly to his cat, keeping an eye out for any out of bed students. Many nights I could hear those out of bed students carping on about the caretaker and his infuriating cat, Mrs Norris. The duo never bothered me much, perhaps on account of another squib working in the magic filled castle. Not that he offered me much assistance either, grumbling under his breath but loud enough for me to hear. Never anything nice of course.

We paused on the rotating staircase, me gripping onto the banister until my knuckles ached, then carried on. Even after two weeks of scouring the floors of the castle at night I was not used to the moving stairs.

The wary- eyed Filch ("_Oh, my dear, if only that man would stop getting in more of these insufferable…kids…wasting my time…foolish…OI, back in bed you!_") was my guide for many of my nightly strolls through the castle and its grounds. The feeling of being in Hogwarts after curfew was incomparable to anything I'd ever felt. I was somewhat comforted by the snoozing portraits and the stars blinking down at me and reflecting off the Black Lake. This was where I was meant to be, I kept telling myself. Where I was prepped to attend since birth.

There was always some doubt niggling in the back of my head.

My father's parting words echoed in my mind even after all these years whenever I thought of leaving the confines of the kitchen during the day (_"Stupid squib! You don't belong here! You're a disgrace to magic folk!"), _keeping me away from the mockery from others like him, the bigots, as Nanny Anne called them. Bill had a much more colourful word for them. I allowed my hope of re-emerging with the magical world to take me away from my friends, my home, from the place I was sure I wouldn't be judged and ridiculed for what I was, like Filch. Poor Filch. His crabbiness and permanent scowl would not be so prominent were it not for the students cruel derision, uncaring of whether he heard them or not. In fact, they probably wanted him to hear. After all, a squib among wizards was dishonourable, even to the most sympathetic purebloods.

I brought this on myself; the fear. So easy it would have been to say no, to stay in Devon in the otherwise empty house. But I feared the thought of being on my own in the house filled with only dust and memories. Yes, I had the Brimble's and the Pike's to look out for me, much like the times Mrs Brimble had done whenever Bill done a runner, but they had their own families, their own routines. And I had mine. Had.

The gentle _tick tock_ _tick tock _of the giant pendulum reverberated through the hallways on the way to Dumbledore's office. I rested my frantic mind and focused on the mumblings of Filch for the remainder of the journey.

"Good evening, Ella. I hope you had a pleasant day," Dumbledore greeted with his usual twinkly, granddad-like eyes as soon as I entered his office. It never ceased to amaze me, seeing all his trinkets and magical knick-knacks, whizzing and flying and buzzing. His expanse of wall used as a library always called to me. What wonders and secrets gathered from over hundreds of years lied within this spherical room?

"Yes, I did, thank you sir," I smiled, sitting down on the chair before his desk, vaguely hearing Filch's groans of protest fading in the distance.

"Good." His beard twisted up: his version of a slight smirk. I was sure this man was a mind reader. "How are your classes? I hear you are progressing rather well."

Lie. Big fat fat massive lie. Catching up on five years of the Hogwarts curriculum was maddening, even at only two weeks of studying. The house elves in the kitchens gladly took over my duties (not that they let me lift a finger much of the time anyways) to ensure me time for homework and studying. Some even helped me when they could.

"They're ok. Got a lot more to learn," I answered.

"Much praise comes from Professor Flitwick and Professor Binns on your theory work and remembering material," he complimented with the tiniest wink. "Anyway, this was not my reason to call for you this evening." He paused. "How are you?"

"Ok, I guess. Bit cold." For emphasis I rubbed my arm over my thick jumper. The office was definitely warmer than the windy hallways but nowhere near as stuffy as the kitchen.

He dropped his head ever so lightly to peer over his spectacles. "You are not feeling forlorn or regretful of your decision to leave your home?"

Yes, I am regretting it, sir. I want to go home. I want Zoe and Nate. I want Bill. I'm scared. I shoved the thoughts to the back of my mind, cursing myself for giving up so easily and sounding like my nine year old whiny self. "It does get a bit lonely down in the kitchens."

"My offer still stands, Ella. If you wish to return home, by all means, do not be afraid to say so."

His words were so common to me now, his gaze still sharp. "No, I want to stay."

Dumbledore nodded. "If you wish me to accompany you to the Great Hall during breakfast…"

"I'm not ready for that," I said honestly. How could I just waltz into a room full of witches and wizards and expect to be accepted when squibs are snubbed from the very society?

"Ella, perhaps you may wish to be introduced along with the arrival of our foreign visitors?"

"What visitors?"

He smiled crookedly. "Students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, schools for wizards and witches in France and Bulgaria, will be arriving in mere days to participate in the Triwizard Tournament."

Ah, yes. I remember now. He had mentioned this on my first night when he was going over the school rules. He said it as a fleeting comment at the time but it was obviously something big. Always one for dramatics.

"I'll think about it."

"Be quick, only two days to go. Now then, are you having much trouble with any specific subject?"

"Well, I guess transfiguration is a bit daunting. The theory doesn't make much sense if I have nothing to base it on. I mean, Professor McGonagall does give a demonstration but she doesn't do it often and so I don't get a real sense of…what's happening and what's involved. Magically speaking."

"I see. I shall discuss other methods with Minerva and hopefully she will aid you further. Anything else?"

I said no. He greeted me goodnight but then called me back as I reached the door. "And, dear, the house elves will be teaching you the art of the other schools' foreign culinary delicacies. I do hope you enjoy treating your taste buds, I'm sure living with Bill all those years has you accustomed to pies and chips."

The sharp pain accompanied with the memory Bill stabbed my chest.

The next week passed by in a similar fashion to my first two weeks. I woke up early to prepare breakfast with the house elves, completed homework and studied some more, helped with lunch, more studying, got to know the other house elves and what their previous lives before Hogwarts were like, helped with dinner, and then went on a midnight stroll through the castle and grounds.

The day before the arrival of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students I told Dumbledore I would be remaining unknown, for a while at least. I couldn't bear the jeering that was sure to follow (_"Look! Another stupid, useless squib! What's she doin' 'ere?"_). And then the night of the Goblet of Fire came. Harry Potter's name still rung in my head. The eerie silence that followed. And then the hecklings. I couldn't help but feel some sympathy for the poor boy, orphaned into a muggle family away from magic. I felt I could empathise with him on some level.

A month passed in much the same way. And before I knew it, November was close to ending.

The afternoon was filled with sounds of roaring dragons. Dragons: the first task. I bit my lip nervously as another roar echoed through the kitchen. Many of the house elves carried on without a flinch but others jumped and dropped what they were holding, fixing it in seconds with a click of their fingers. Poor Harry, only fourteen and having to fend off a massive fire breathing dragon. At least, I think it was fire breathing.

"Is Miss not attending the first task?" a little voice squeaked.

I turned away from my potions book to see Bonnie the house elf. I smiled down at her overly large eyes and floppy ears. She reminded me of a bunny – an old, dirty, ugly bunny. "No, Bonnie. I have to study," I said.

"But Miss doesn't need to work on potions! Miss is very good. Triwizard tournament is very special occasion," Bonnie tried explaining.

"You're right." I closed my book and stood up. Bonnie looked up at me with a grin. "I should go and work on charms instead." Her grin was gone.

I exchanged my books and returned to a bench in the kitchen. I wasn't sure which house it fed but it didn't make much difference to me, I wasn't sorted. Dumbledore had explained to me that as a squib, the Sorting Hat wouldn't group me in a house. After all, they were founded by wizards and witches with magical ability.

Another roar. And then a loud booming voice announcing the competitors.

I focused my attention on my textbook. The crowd yelling and cheering every few seconds kept distracting me. What on earth was happening out there? My curiosity was raging against my doubt. No one would see me, they'd all be too focused on the task. I bit my lip, balancing the pros and cons – well, there was only one con and a million pros.

"Bonnie!" I called across the kitchen. She appeared next to me with a _pop._

"Yes, Miss Ella."

"Would you mind taking me out to the Quidditch pitch please? Just for a minute, I want to see what's happening," I asked.

"Oh! Yes, Miss Ella! Of course," she shrieked too loudly. Bonnie grabbed my hand and all of a sudden I felt a pressure in my stomach, the kind you get when you're trying to squeeze through a tiny hole. It reminded me of being born, funnily enough. Is that how babies felt? The feeling lasted no more than a second and then I was back on my feet, swaying in the blurry outdoors.

"Bonnie is sorry, Miss! Bonnie didn't mean to make Miss Ella sick," the house elf cried, holding my leg to steady me and pinching herself with her other out of habit.

I couldn't reply in fear of being sick. My organs were swimming inside of me, jolting my stomach and the soup I ate for lunch.

And then my vision steadied, my ears focused on the noise, and I was watching a dragon stalk a boy.

We were high up, behind a crowd of people but elevated so I could see over them. Poor Bonnie was too short to see anything over my knee. The crowd gasped as the boy fled from the dragon, its fire smacking against a large rock. His glasses were crooked on his face, his pitch black hair unruly. He ran from his safety and just missed another lick of fire. Soot marked his face and clothes. His face held boyish features. Only an idiot wouldn't recognise this boy: Harry Potter.

My hands covered my mouth at another close attack. No one paid any attention to the noises garbled in my throat. Good thing as well, I wasn't making much of an attempt to hide myself from the students.

Harry held his wand out and started yelling. I couldn't hear him over the cries of the students, but in no time at all everyone was pointing and looking in the distance. I squinted my eyes against the glare of the sun and then gasped along with everyone else as a broomstick zoomed in front of Harry.

The crowd _whooped_ and hollered even louder as Harry soared up high and around the stands, the vicious dragon hot on his tails. I stood mesmerised at seeing him fly so expertly, darting away from the deadly fire and claws. For a second I could even hear someone cheering on the bloody dragon. He flew around the castle away from our eyes. Without the distraction of Harry against the dragon I noticed just how cold it was; I was shivering in my plain brown trousers and red jumper. Everyone around me was wearing thick robes, scarfs, hats and gloves.

Before I could dwell on my numb fingers any longer Harry soared back into eyesight, looking even more dishevelled than before. He swooped down into the pitch again. And then it was over as soon as he held up a large golden egg. The entire stadium erupted into cheers, jumping and hugging and kissing.

I jumped up with little yelps of my own, grabbed Bonnie's hands and danced around in a circle with her. I was bent down so low I was sure to have an ache for the rest of the day. We laughed together until the booming voice announced the end of the first task and began counting the scores for each of the four contestants.

"Bonnie, I think she would go now before anyone sees us," I said, bending down behind the excited students to whisper in her ear.

She nodded. "Does Miss want to close her eyes?" she whispered back. I closed my eyes and felt the tugging in my stomach once again. The sounds from the stadium left a buzzing in my ears when I opened my eyes to see us back in the kitchen. I sighed and flopped down on a bench, waiting for my stomach to ease back to normal.

"That was amazing!" I laughed, thinking back on what I had just witnessed. "A real dragon! It was huge! Oh, and Harry was fantastic! Bonnie, thank you, that was brilliant," I said to the house elf, leaned down and kissed her head. She stuttered over her words before bowing down and running off. Another house elf strolled past mixing a bowl. "Fizzy!" I called out.

The house elf turned around. "Yes, Miss Ella? Is something the matter? Is Miss needing-"

I flung her bowl onto a nearby table, spilling over some of its contents and grabbed her hands. Giggling, I swung her around in a dance, her feet high up off the floor. Fizzy was the happiest of the house elves so I knew she would have no issue – or at least much less of an issue – with dancing with a human during her duty. We danced and laughed much to the displeasure of some of the other elves. Being at Hogwarts was wonderful and all the magic I witnessed was always a pleasure. But the dragon just made it all the more real. I was in the wizarding world after all those years! And Harry flying! Actually flying! Away from a fire breathing dragon, the kind that I grew up reading about.

"Oi! Hurry it up already, would ya?"

"I would if this git moved faster."

"Don't rush me! These gloves are-"

"Don't go blaming those bloody gloves again."

"Someone's coming! Move it!"

"I'll do it you tosser. You go 'round the corner and keep watch. And look after those Honeydukes sweets!"

The house elves bustled around the kitchen with more energy, seeming unperturbed by the conversation just outside of the entrance to the kitchen. I had heard many students come in here before but it was always at night when I was out for a stroll or safely in the dorm behind the enchanted cupboard.

Fizzy wriggled out of my arms and dropped to the floor, grabbed her bowl and scarpered off to a corner.

The entrance opened, the portrait of the fruit bowl swinging in, the giggling pear quiet and excited. A tall figure entered the room, surrounded instantly by many of the house elves ("_What is sir needing today, sir?_"). Slowly, I backed away from the small group to the direction of the cupboard. It wasn't very far, only a few more steps and I'd be hidden away in the sanctuary of my dorm…

The boy looked up. My movements stalled. A sharp intake of breath. His eyes found mine without any effort at all, as if sensing my odd presence amongst the tiny house elves. His bright blue eyes. His eyes surrounded by pale freckly skin. His long red hair framing his pale freckly skin.

Not once since I had met George Weasley had he been stunned into silence.

"George," I breathed out, my voice barely audible. He was here, in Hogwarts. Hogwarts was his 'going away for the boring month's school'. Hogwarts: the school for witches and wizards. George…wizard…

He stayed silent, his red brows furrowed, either in disbelief or confusion. He didn't look any different to how he was in the summer, he'd only lost his light tan and his sunburn. I wanted to laugh, to cry, to dance, to weep. He was here! He was here all along.

"What're you standing in the way for? Move it, the champion needs his food" a voice came from behind him. George was shoved forward and my eyes left his.

"Ella?"

Confusion. That's what this feeling was. I was confused. No, I was more than confused; I was completely baffled. And shocked.

George was pushed by…George. Two Georges.

My eyes flickered between the two. Both Georges had exactly the same expression: surprised and bewildered.

"Ella?" It was George Two.

I rubbed my eyes. It was the weather – it must have been. It was colder outside than I realised and I was seeing things now. I was sick. That was all. There was only one George.

My vision was incredibly fuzzy and four Georges appeared standing on the wall. First on the right, then the left wall. Then they wobbled upside down.

"Whoa! Easy there, little one." Hands gripped my shoulders and pushed me down onto a bench. Two Georges were right in my face while the other two stood back. My head swayed some more. And then it was two Georges again.

"George." The George kneeling in front of me smiled and rubbed my arms.

"I'm here, Ella. It's me. What are you doing here?"

The other George stood quietly.

"But…what…?"

"George," the other George spoke, "What's going on?"

George sighed and stood up before sitting on the bench beside me.

"Fred, this here's Ella," George introduced. "Ella, this is Fred."

Fred. Fred Weasley. George's favourite brother and best friend, was his twin. All the pieces, everything right in front of me clicked into place. I didn't know how to feel. I was angry from not being told; happy that I was with George and finally meeting Fred; betrayed for not being trusted enough.

The anger pushed forward ahead of all my other emotions. The joy of having seen the famous Harry Potter against a menacing beast vanished. I couldn't believe he kept this big a secret from me! What was he thinking?

"Fred," I deadpanned. "Fred your brother."

He smiled. "Well obviously. He does look a bit like me doesn't he? But more ugly. I'm the attractive one as you can see," he joked, nudging my shoulder with his own. "What are you doing here? I've never seen you here before."

"How could you not tell me?" I snapped.

George looked at me worriedly with a frown. "I'm sorry, Ella, I couldn't tell you about this, you should know. I swear I wanted to!"

"I'm not talking about you being a wizard." I knew the secrecy rules about informing muggles of the wizarding world so I couldn't blame him for not telling me that, how was he to know that I wasn't a muggle? "You never told me you had a _twin_."

George was lost for words. He looked between me and Fred, jumbled noises escaping his mouth.

"George," Fred said, opening his mouth for the second time. His voice sounded identical to George's. I tried looking for clues to tell the two apart discreetly, but from what I could see they were exactly alike. "What's going on? You know her."

The twins watched each other for a moment, Fred's arms crossed, standing tall and stubborn. George sighed. "Fred, this is Ella. She's from Ottery."

Fred nodded once, accepting his brother's terse response as if he was told an incredibly complex mystery and was seconds away from realising the answer. He would have looked calm if it wasn't for his hardened jaw. Without another word, Fred took the food offered to him by some house elves and left the kitchen. George watched his brother go.

"Ella, I didn't mean to not tell you, I just...I couldn't…it never…"

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. All those years of us walking through the town, playing in the park, lying in my garden, all those times he had spoken about Fred's new adventure, Fred's new girlfriend, Fred's newest joke, Fred, Fred, Fred, and he had not once mentioned or even implied them being twin. We were friends, best friends, and he couldn't trust me something so important. How long was he going to keep it a secret for? Was he ever going to tell me?

George eyed the door, debating whether or not to follow his brother or stay. He chewed on his upper lip, then deflated and patted the seat next to him, only talking when I sat down. "You don't know what it feels like, being a twin. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's absolutely amazing having a partner in crime from before you were born, always knowing everything about you, knowing your mood and how to react to it. It's always been us, FredAndGeorge. Mum can't even tell us apart half the time," George scoffed, shaking his head lightly with a small smile. He was hunched over, leaning his arms on his thighs and rubbing his hands together. "But no one ever saw me for just George, y'know? Without Fred. Everyone just treated us as the same. And we are mostly.

"But it's the little differences that set us apart that no one cares to notice. Like, how I like less sugar in my tea, prefer marmalade on my toast instead of jam or butter, that I can't stand frogs, and I'm bloody older. Fred's got this weird thing where he lives by the colour red. He lives and breathes red. You know he has more red underwear than any other colour? And he'll rather go commando if all his red undies are dirty instead of wearing his others. He loves red food, as well. I'm not that picky. I have a bit more sympathy than him. I'm the one who told him not to transfigure Ron's teddy into a spider!" He heaved in a breath, his rant getting the best of him. He stopped rubbing his hands and averted his gaze from the ground to me. "And you were the first. And it felt nice, I guess, knowing who I was. As George. Because that's who I am. Not Fred'n'George. Just George."

He was George - my George, sitting there, so sincere and confused on his outburst yet so sure of himself. He looked guilty, as if his words betrayed his companionship with his brother. Instead of wanting to hit him – the feeling was still there, just not as intense – I wanted to hug him, assure him it was alright. I was still hurt and betrayed. It wouldn't go away anytime soon, but I couldn't be mad at him when he looked like that; like an abused puppy, torn between his twin and me. His explanation was so honest and heartfelt. I couldn't bear to make him feel worse just when we've come back together. So I wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned my head on his shoulder.

"Thank you, for sharing that. I'm sorry for being a cow," I mumbled. George sat up straight and wound his arms around me, resting his chin on my head. "But you should have said something. You know I wouldn't have treated you two the same."

"Oi, I was nine when we met, cut me some slack. Besides, you never told me about this," he gestured to the Hogwarts kitchen. "I gave you enough hints just in case and you never bothered to let one slip."

"You were an idiot. Still are actually," I grinned, squeezing him harder.

"Cheeky." He pinched my rib.

"You know, I've always wanted to meet Fred. You always used to gush about him, how he was so cool and brilliant and fun," I smiled, remembering all the stories I heard and clung on to, retaining it in my memory forever.

"Why, little Ella sounds like she was jealous. Of my brother!"

"I was," I admitted. "I wasn't expecting this. I don't know what to do! How do I act around him? Will he like me?"

George laughed. "Stop worrying! You're alright to me so you'll be good with him, you daft git."

"Well, sorry, I thought you enjoyed being differentiated. Not the same person, as I recall."

We sat holding each other, silently astounded at the circumstances. The silence didn't last long. "So what are you doing here? I swear, I know almost everyone and not once have I seen you."

I didn't want to say it. It still hurt. There is no tyrant as merciless as pain. "Come down here later and I'll tell you. I heard you have a party with a certain champion."

We let go of each other. George stood up with handfuls of bottles from the table. "You'd better. I'll make sure to come around midnight."

He didn't leave straight away, but sighed and looked to the portrait. "He's around the corner. Reckon he'll want a word before we get back to the common room. I've got quite a bit of explaining to do."

"And Fred," I called behind him, watching him walk out the kitchen. "Bring Fred with you."

I nodded and watched him walk away. "And Fred. Bring Fred with you."


	12. New Beginnings

12\. Harder Than Before

* * *

It was only after George had left that I realised he said he was going to be coming down at midnight, meaning I would have to forego my nightly roam around the castle. Until then I'd just have to keep myself occupied from any lingering thoughts on being with George and Fred and rather focus on explaining everything to them.

"Bonnie," I called to the house elf covered in suds by the sink, "What's on the menu tonight?" I clapped my hands, priming to immerse myself into the preparation of tonight's dinner. Food is, after all, the greatest distraction.

I paced around the kitchen, shuffling all the dishes, ingredients and condiments on the benches and counters to alleviate my jitters. The house elves had cleared up everything as soon as Dumbledore announced the end of dinner but I needed to move around. I checked the clock for the umpteenth time: 23.24. Still over half an hour until George would be arriving with Fred in tow.

"Is Miss Ella needing some assistance?"

"No thanks Bonnie, I'm alright," I reassured the house elf. She was perched on a bench, her spindly legs swaying back and forth as she watched my every movement. "You go off to bed, Bon, I'll be up for a while."

Bonnie never retreated to the dorm unless I was with her. She had taken it upon herself to be my personal guide, making sure I was always comfortable and attended to. She had even refused to sleep in her own bed for the first few nights, insisting I use it even though I had my own, although it was slightly small (Dumbledore had since enlarged it).

"Is Miss Ella giving order to Bonnie?"

"No, no! Of course not, Bonnie," I almost yelled out. I still wasn't used to the enslavement history of the elves and couldn't tolerate to order them about. "It was only a suggestion, Bonnie. I know you must be tired, what with working all day. You need your rest."

The house elf jumped off the bench and bowed low, her long nose inches from the gleaming ground. "Bonnie is very tired, Miss. Thank you for being so kind."

She paused for a moment, her overly large tennis ball-like eyes inspecting her pillow case covering that was morphed into a dress. I smiled, knowing her hesitance to leave but not wanting to question me. "Bonnie."

"Yes, Miss Ella? Is you needing something?" she asked eagerly, dropping her covering and clasping her hands together.

"You can take the book from my bedside table. It's bookmarked from where we were last."

Bonnie grinned. "Oh! Thank you! So kind is Miss Ella. Bonnie will try her hardest. Bonnie will make Miss Ella proud."

A _whoosh_ sounded through the room before Bonnie made it to the cupboard. The flames from the mounted candles flickered and several dishes rattled off their shelves and crashed, dispersing sharp, jagged pieces of glass across the floor. Soap flew away from the sinks and glided across the benches and floor before flying up and rubbing itself into my hair.

"PEEVES!" I yelled, swatting the bottle of soap away from my head. The damned poltergeist had bothered the occupants of the kitchen daily and it was bordering on ludicrous the mischief and mayhem he caused.

The giggling, maniacal poltergeist appeared high above, floating on his side with his arms behind his head, his orange hat tilted on his head, close to dropping. "Yeeeeeeeeeeeeees? Did a teeny-tiny voice call for Peevesy?"

Sopping wet hair clung to my face. Bonnie shrieked and hid behind my legs. All the house elves were frightened of the damned poltergeist and scurried away in his presence – mostly behind me. "What the bloody hell d'you think you're doing, Peeves? You shouldn't be down here at this time."

Wind rushed past me, and in the blink of an eye Peeves blew a raspberry right in my face. "Little Miss Ellie should be sleeeeeping! Or does you have a date tonight," he sang with a suggestive smirk. "Oooooh, a secret rendezvous in the kitchen! Oh, how ROMANTIC! Making a candlelit dinner, are weee? I firmly suggest the asparagus. I hear it's woooooonderful." he bellowed, twirling in dizzying circles. "Big nose Ellie with a boooooooy! A wizard boy!"

He resumed cackling once again and drifted from corner to corner, breaking as much as possible in his way. "Is that the Baron I hear?" I called out, recalling one of Dumbledore's useful hints ("_The Baron has a reputation for solving even the most meddling predicaments, even when he is not present_"). And then he was gone, leaving the room in a hell of disarray.

I sighed, surveying the damage. "Bonnie, you go on and sleep. I'll clear up here."

Without another word the little house elf darted off to the cupboard and vanished. I blew out another huff of breath, pulled my hair back from my face into a sloppy bun and began clearing up the aftermath of Peeves' disaster, starting by discarding the glass into a little pan with a broom. The soapy floor made it incredibly difficult so I mopped the slippery surface. I moved onto the mess on the tables once I was done clearing the floor, my face scrunching in disgust when I slipped my arm in a puddle of mayonnaise.

I was crouched on the floor, wiping the last remnants of some mush from under a table when the soft giggling of the pear rang through the kitchen. They were here! Hastily, I pulled my arm out from under the table and raised myself off my knees. If I had been paying any attention to my surroundings rather than my pounding heart, I would have noticed I lifted myself too early, thus smacking my head on the underside of the bench with a loud _thump!_

"Ouch!" I cried as quietly as I could, nursing my sore head. I shuffled myself further back – a safe distance away from the table – and stood up. I turned to see a red head standing in the middle of the kitchen, his hands in his yellow pyjama pockets and a thick red jumper with a G.

"Hello," I greeted, feeling my hands begin to warm. He smiled back, and with a quiet greeting of, "Ella," made his way over to me.

The mess Peeves had made was all cleared up, but I hadn't noticed the buckets and brooms left scattered all over. Neither, it seemed, did George, as he slipped on the mop leaned up against a table. Everything moved in slow motion. His hands flew out of his pockets as he stumbled and kicked a bucket up off the floor. The soapy water hovered in the air for seemingly long seconds, almost floating as I watched, petrified, before dropping, drenching the floor and the unfortunate Weasley twin making him skid across on his bottom.

"Oh my god!" I cried, my hands covering my mouth from the laughter and groans attempting to escape. "I'm so sorry! I thought I'd put those away. Here, lemme help."

I shuffled over to the soaked red head and held my hand out. He gripped it tightly, slipping once again as I tried to haul him up. I chuckled, thinking of how heavy he had gotten compared to us as kids, back when I could easily give him a piggy-back ride. "Careful," I warned, as I attempted to help him up once again. He looked up at me and grinned. I couldn't help but smile back. Then his grip on my hand tightened even more, and instead of pulling himself up, he yanked me down into the sudsy pool atop him.

A shriek escaped my lips when the cold water seeped into my clothes. My hands flailed for a second before resting on George's chest to push myself as far away from the floor.

"Oh, that's cold. So, so cold. AH!" George's arm sneaked around my waist and he rubbed the sponge across my face and neck. "Stop!" I yelped against a mouthful of dirty water, failing to push his hand away. "You _arse_! Get off me!"

George laughed but threw the sponge across the room and brushed my loose, messy hair out of my face. "Careful," he mocked with a lopsided grin. I smacked his chest and stood up, frantically keeping my mind fixed on a certain greasy haired professor decked in a dungaree and straw hat to dispel the fluttering in my stomach. It had been months since I'd felt like this and a few minutes with George had me feeling like a little schoolgirl again.

"Help?" he asked, opening his arms out and crumpling his face up in a goofy smile.

"Pfft, help yourself, git." I emphasised with a kick to the shin.

"Someone's crabby," he taunted and jumped up, jabbing me in the ribs and shaking his hair out, eliciting a squeal from me. I whacked his hand away.

"I was already soaked before, you didn't need to make me wetter, George." I would have blushed at the undertone of my statement but George frowned.

"I'm Fred."

Oh. "Oh!" Awkward. "I'm – I'm sorry. It's just…your jumper. It has a G, I just thought that…" my words stumbled over each other. Boy, was that embarrassing.

Fred, not George, shrugged nonchalantly and returned his hands to his pockets. "S'okay. We swap them all the time. No one really knows who's who anymore so they just call us Weasley." Fred grinned. "A lovely way to introduce yourself though. Simply smashing."

"Glad you think so," I laughed. "So, uh, where is George?"

"Talking to a friend. Said he wouldn't be too long," Fred answered and sat on a bench.

Silence clouded over us for a moment. What was I doing? This was Fred! The boy I was dreaming to meet ever since George first told me of a prank of theirs on Percy involving breakfast, ants and soap. Think of something clever. Think! _Think!_

"So," I started, my mind buzzing, "you like…French food?"

Fred grinned. "Do I _like_ food? I'm sorry, are you sure you've known my brother for years? Bottomless pit of a stomach? Inhales everything edible in sight? We _are_ twins, remember. Although – I must confess that I'm far more handsome."

I chuckled. "I should've guessed. So sorry oh handsomer twin."

"I knew you'd agree! Can't resist my charms," he winked.

I grabbed a plate of the dessert I saved – and made especially for the twins – and sat beside Fred, offering him a sweet.

He quirked an eyebrow while eyeing the sugary bliss on a plate.

"Croquembouche."

"Cock-a what?"

"_Cro-quem-bouche,_" I giggled, accentuating the segments of the word. "What? Scared of a bit of food?"

"Pfft," Fred grabbed a white ball covered in caramel swirls and ate the sweet hole. "Loofs lie fearbax."

"Chew and swallow, please."

He did, licked his lips, and then corrected himself. "Looks like giant bloody earwax on cotton balls."

I rolled my eyes. "But what did you think of the taste?"

"S'alright I guess. Different." He peered at me from the corner of his eyes and chuckled. "Ok, ok, it was fantastic! Happy? I have to admit though, I never expected a girl to be cooking for me this soon - I haven't even started my courting properly yet," Fred winked, propping his elbows on the table behind him and setting his legs wide apart.

"Make yourself comfortable," I mumbled. I hadn't expected my first meeting with Fred to go as it was – he was so comfortable to be around. But it was a lovely feeling.

"Where d'you learn to cook?" he asked, taking another sweet.

"The house elves taught me all the fancy French and Bulgarian food. I help them cook all your meals in fact. But I've been cooking for years now – since I was a kid." I ate a sweet.

"Next time I'm eating in the Great Hall I'll be sure to think of you," said Fred. "Wait – d'you eat here?"

I nodded. "Yup. Dumbledore said I can eat with all the other students…"

"But?"

"Guess I'm not comfortable yet," I shrugged. "So...how does it feel being a twin in a large family?" I asked, successfully changing the topic with a terrible question that made me internally cringe.

Fred chuckled. "You're on fire today. It's alright, having someone the same age as me who I get on with. Everyone's either years older or younger. We make things interesting."

"I'm sure! George told me loads of stuff you guys used to do, the devils of the family, didn't you mum once say? I'm sorry, you don't know who I am, do you?" I asked, suddenly discomforted. Here I was, talking to the boy I'd known of for years but never actually met, and he had no clue who I was.

"Don't worry 'bout it, George explained everything to me and how you were the reason he was always sneaking off to town," Fred said, casually waving off my worry and smiled. "In fact, I reckon you owe me."

"I'm sorry?"

"Well, more George than you, but you're involved too. The amount of times I had to cover for George when he wanted to 'pop down to the shops'. You can imagine my surprise when he returned home empty handed. No – wait, he usually had something open and half finished with him."

The pear giggled again, slightly louder this time, and in waltzed the other Weasley twin. "George!" I welcomed a bit too eagerly.

"Ella!" he grinned, opening his arms wide. I jumped into his arms and embraced him for a short second before being put into a headlock. "Aha! What did I tell you, Princess? Never let down your guard."

"Ger'off, you bloody lunatic!" I shrieked, blindly batting away his hands from my hair.

George tutted. "Now, now Ella. I'm sure you were brought up with finer manners. What kind of a suitor wants a woman with the mouth of a troll?"

"Get off me before I castrate you and feed it to the Giant Squid!" He let go as soon as the word 'castrate' left my lips. "Twat," I muttered and attempted to fix my wet, stringy and knotty hair. What a fine impression to make on Fred! I thought bitterly. First the water incident that made me look like a drowned rat, and now this: my hair resembling a bird's nest. I felt as if I needed to make an effort to impress him, ensure his acceptance of me. It was only right, having befriended one twin I would need to get on with the other. Right?

"I know you don't mean that love, so I'll let you off this once," George said and took my seat beside Fred. "What in the name of Merlin's saggy underpants is that?" He asked, scrunching his face at the French dessert.

"Croquembouche," Fred answered, popping another meringue ball into his mouth.

"Cock-a what?"

"Bloody boys, only cocks on their minds," I huffed, walking over to the bench. I contemplated sitting next to Fred but diverted at the last second and sat on George's other side.

"Trust me love, that's the last thing on our minds. We only have two things on our minds – one of which I'm sure you could guess. Ain't that right, Freddie?" George said, flicking some hair out of his face and eating a sweet.

"You're disgusting," I stated, just as Fred replied with, "Alicia's always on your mind, mate."

George glared towards Fred who completely ignored the look. Was that George's perfect girl? Alicia? Even her name sounded perfect.

"And you're in Hogwarts," George said, diverting the conversation.

"Remarkable observational skills, George," I said dryly.

He jabbed me with his elbow and lobbed another sweet in his mouth, moaning from the sugar melting in his mouth before asking the all-important question. "So how come you're here at Hogwarts?"

Inhaling air didn't do me any good no matter how many times I stalled to answer. What could I say? Oh yeah, you remember Bill: my guardian? Well he was secretly a wizard and died but then Dumbledore came and invited me to come here as a favour to Bill as his dying wish. Oh, by the way I'm a squib.

Yeah, that doesn't sound so appealing.

"Where do I start?" I muttered to myself, pushing my loose hair behind my ears, contemplating all the ways I could start but deeming none of them acceptable.

"How 'bout you start with when you got here?" Fred suggested. "We've never seen you here before – which is shocking for one Weasley twin let alone both of us." I nodded.

"Since mid-October, I think," I answered.

"In the middle of the month? How comes? Why weren't you here before then?" George asked.

I twiddled my fingers together, keeping my eyes on them as I thought of how to explain.

In the end, there was only one way to say it. "Bills gone."

"Where'd he go?" George asked, frowning.

"He's dead."

Both boys were in complete shock. George must have explained _everything_ to Fred, from my sudden appearance in Ottery at eight years of age, to Nanny Anne, for he looked just as sympathetic as his twin.

"Bill _died?_" George repeated.

"He was a wizard."

Their eyes widened. "Bloody hell," they whispered in unison.

"Was not expecting that," George continued, running his hand through his hair.

I carried on. "Ever since Nanny Anne, he was just a shell. He changed. He wasn't the same again. And he started to go out on these wizard missions for god knows what, going away for days at a time. He never explained any of it to me. But he always came back. He always saw me off to school before a new term or year. And then one day I come home and Dumbledore's there."

The red heads were in silence as they took in everything I'd said. I had deeply edited the information, hoping that they wouldn't pick up on all that I'd missed that involved me.

"So, you're a witch? Were you home schooled all this time?" Fred asked.

"No," I answered quietly, keeping my head down to avoid their gazes.

"Huh? But we've never seen you here. And you knew that Bill was a wizard. You wouldn't have been able – or shouldn't've been able – to know that unless you were a witch," one of them said.

"And if you're a muggle...how are you here? It's hard to believe Dumbledore allowed it, regardless of who asked him."

"But I do know about wizards and witches, I've always known." I squeezed my eyes shut. "I'm a...squib."

Silence followed my declaration. I dared not to open my eyes, and instead focused on keeping my head down, and the loose tendrils of my chestnut hair to curtain my face off from them. The pain in my hand alerted me to my clenched fists. I relaxed them slightly and rested them in my lap.

Internally I was battling with myself on how they would react. Not only had I told George, my childhood best friend, but I had also opened up my biggest secret to Fred, who I had only met hours ago. Would they shun me just as my parents had? Of course they would, all wizards looked down upon squibs, those born to magical parents who harboured no magical abilities themselves. My kind were not welcome. We were mocked, spat at, laughed at. Muggleborns were treated worse, yes. But squibs were just disdained, only recognised to suffer from hexes and jinxes as we couldn't protect ourselves.

I wanted to leave. I wanted to go back home, back to Ottery. It was a stupid idea, surrounding myself with witches and wizards. This was even harder than when I had told Nanny Anne and Bill. I had even seen from personal experience how the students treated poor Filch. What would make me any different?

Warmth enveloped my hand. Eventually, I opened my eyes and saw a much larger hand covering mine. George was looking down at me, his blue eyes twinkling and full of life. His lips twitched, and he smirked.

"So?"

"What? What d'you mean 'so'?" I asked, dumbfounded.

George shrugged. "So what if you're a squib. You're still my smelly Ellie."

"You don't…you don't hate me?"

"Hate you? How can I hate you, Ella? So what, you can't do magic. You've never been able to for the last seven years we've known each other."

A smile spread across my face. "You mean it? You don't care that I'm a squib?"

"'Course not! In fact, I'm quite glad."

"Why's that?" I asked. Never before had I heard a reason why a wizard would like a squib.

"You're here now. If you were a muggle I'd have to wait forever before I got to see you again," he answered and squeezed my arm.

I laughed and threw myself into George's chest, relieved that I wasn't about to be taunted any time soon by my best friend. He was _George Weasley_! How could I ever have thought he'd hate me based on my blood status and magical ability?

"Easy there, Princess. You're going to break something," he laughed, patting my head roughly with his hand. I was sure a few tears escaped my eyes, but I paid no mind to them.

We separated our limbs and laughed.

"Well, now, Ella, I do believe we have a few stories to share," George said, tapping my nose with his finger. I smacked his arm. "Feisty. Oi, got any more sweets?"

I rolled my eyes and went to get another dish of dessert. I set it down on the table. The rest of the night (technically morning) was spent with the twins regaling stories of their pranks in Hogwarts and at their home, The Burrow. They told me all that had happened over the years at Hogwarts, the Quidditch World Cup and their future joke shop.

Nothing could break the elation warming me from the pit of my stomach as George intensely impersonated a prank carried out on some Slytherin students. I was accepted. Truly accepted for what I was by wizards!

The cloud of bliss I was floating on distracted me from Fred's glares and scoffs throughout the night.

"Ella, why do you stink of mayonnaise?"


	13. Warm

13\. Warm

* * *

For the first time since being in Hogwarts I woke up feeling warm. Not the kind of warm when you stand in a hot kitchen, soaking in the heat and radiant smell of cookies baking; nor the kind of warm felt when laying on sand on a lovely summer's day. This was the kind of warm that was long anticipated that started somewhere deep inside and spread to each individual finger and toe, awakening frosty limbs; it felt like a tight embrace after spending the night in icy winds.

And for the first time in years, I felt accepted. Warm.

I skipped through the morning and danced around the house elves, my energy running solely on the delicious warmth. Said warmth was reimbursed with a pleasant surprise from the twins just before breakfast with a grin and 'good morning!' This, of course in my better than wonderful mood, warranted a before breakfast snack of some pre-prepared trifle much to the delight of the two boys. It carried on through the rest of the morning and much of the afternoon.

And then came my lessons.

"Miss Wood! Do pay attention."

The words in _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch _burned my eyes as they darted over the alphabet and formula. I had been stuck in McGonagall's office for just shy of an hour and my head was pounding with a headache like there was a bulldozer on a rampage in there. I had endured an hour of Potions with Snape and two hours of Herbology with Sprout already. Transfiguration was my last lesson of the day and I was counting down the seconds until I could leave when Professor McGonagall snapped.

"Sorry Professor," I murmured, returning to the book before me. It was embarrassing, learning and struggling with first year magical theory when I should have been learning fifth year material. History of Magic was by far my best lesson, followed by Herbology. I put this down due to the lack of magic involved, whereas the subjects like Transfiguration and Charms heavily relied on magic and a wand, making it impossible for me to grasp. Although Flitwick would never admit to overpraising my lacking skills – he believed the sun shone out of everyone's arses, bless him.

"Miss Wood, please! I understand the late hour however you shall not slack in my lesson," Professor McGonagall said as I muffled a yawn behind my hand.

"I'm sorry." My stomach rumbled.

I often wondered why I needed to study the core subjects which involved the most magic when it would do me no good, but Dumbledore assured me that it was a necessity for me to at least learn the fundamentals. McGonagall's strict and no nonsense demeanour scared me to open up to her normally. But I was far too tired to care right now.

"Professor? May I ask you something?"

McGonagall put down her quill, clasped her hands together and nodded.

"I was just wondering…"

"Yes, Miss Wood?"

"Why am I doing this?" I asked hurriedly. McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "I mean, I understand having to learn the basics, but…is it possible for me to drop some subjects? Because, they won't really do me any good in the future, will they? And it's not like I can actually do the magic. And-"

"Miss Wood," McGonagall cut me off from my rambling. "This is not the time for a discussion like this. And besides, Headmaster Dumbledore would be a more suitable person to ask, for he is the one enrolling you in the theory exams. However, under the circumstances of your magical ability, I have no doubt that the Headmaster, should you be persuasive enough, will offer you unique alternatives." She flicked her wand and my book slammed shut. "That will be all for today."

"Yes Professor," I said, packing up my book, parchment and quill.

"And Miss Wood." I turned. "You have the potential to be successful, whether or not you are able to conduct magic. Your work as of now is quite astounding. I do believe you will be moving up to the second year syllabus in no time. I must insist, however, you begin working on thinking you can do just as well as the other students. Putting yourself down will not do you any favours."

I smiled. "Thank you Professor."

I left her office, the foreign symbols of Transfiguration swirling in my mind's eye as I crept through the dark hallways back to the kitchen.

* * *

The noise overhead from the Great Hall had long since died down, the clutter all cleared away and the warmth slowly chilling. The flames from the great brick fireplace flickered in the high-ceilinged room, as large as the Great Hall above it, and filled the kitchen with soothing crackles and hisses.

Bonnie appeared with a light _crack_ in front of the plush armchair I was residing in, _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 by Miranda Goshawk _balanced on my leg, and handed me a mug of hot chocolate.

"Thanks Bon," I said, smiling at the tiny house elf and holding the mug close.

"Miss Ella is very welcome," she said.

"Say, think you can help me with some charms?" I asked, carefully sipping the scolding liquid, wondering if the little house elf could offer me any help with my studying.

Bonnie nodded enthusiastically. "Of course Miss Ella! Bonnie is good with charms." She clicked her fingers and in a flash, the textbook was in her hands.

I frowned, thinking carefully. "Bonnie, do you know how charms works for wizards and witches?" I asked slowly.

"What is Miss meaning?" she tilted her head.

"I know house elves use magic differently – I mean, you don't even need wands! So do you really understand the theory and incantations behind spells?"

Bonnie thought hard before sighing, dropping her head low and shook it slightly.

"It's alright, Bon. I'll manage," I assured the snivelling house elf, carefully taking the book out of her trembling hands.

Twenty minutes later, three empty mugs were strewn across the floor, one half empty mug on the arm of my chair, and my head drumming painfully. The paragraph I re-read for the seventeenth time made no more sense than the first couple of times; in fact the words blurred together and I couldn't make out one word from the next. It might as well have been written in Arabic calligraphy.

I growled under my breath, gulping down the last of the now cold chocolate liquid and dropped the mug with the others. The thought of flinging the offending textbook into the fireplace was so tempting…just one throw and this madness would end…my fingers twitched and gripped the edges…

The pear giggled. The portrait door opened.

"Honey, I'm home!" a familiar voice yelled.

Three figures entered the kitchen and made their way over to the other armchairs surrounding the fireplace, two of them identical red heads and the other, I was surprised to see, a dark skinned boy with dreadlocks falling into his face. I froze as he completely disregarded my existence and strolled past me.

"Ella! My dearest, how are you on this fine evening?" George greeted, wrapping his arms around my neck from behind, slightly firmer than comfortable, and rested his chin on my head.

"Whoa, what's with the mess?" the dark skinned boy asked, kicking a stray mug away and sitting himself down in an armchair, Fred taking the other.

"Our Ella here is a bit of a pig, aren't you love?" George said.

"If I'm a pig I dread to think of what you are," I grumbled, twitching away from the stray strands of his hair tickling my cheeks. My palms began to sweat and I had to busy them to hide my discomfort. I had only reacquainted with George and met Fred yesterday, and now they were already bringing in another person…were they mad? Did they not realise how hard it had been for me to open up to them?

"Oh-ho-ho! I like you," the boy leapt out of his seat and pushed a hand toward me. "Name's Lee, and I'm the handsome one out of the troublesome trio." He flashed a charming smile and winked.

Speech failed me for a moment before I was able to reply. "Troublesome trio?" I quipped, shaking Lee's hand. He bent low and placed a gentle kiss, quickly jumping away from George's slap after a lingering second…or two.

"Rather fitting, wouldn't you say?" Lee said, flopping back in his seat. "Hogwarts' most troublesome students!"

"_They_ say trouble, we rather the term incorporating life and laughter in this dreary old place."

"Misters Wheezy's! Mister Jordan!" Fizzy yelled, appearing before us.

"Ello, Fizz," Fred grinned at the beaming house elf.

"Is Misters wanting some butterbeer tonight?" she asked.

"That'd be swell, thanks Fizz," George said, finally moving away from my chair and to the floor by Fred's feet, swatting his foot away when it swung over his shoulder.

With a _crack! _the house elf was gone. And all eyes were on me.

"So, Ella, was it?" Lee inquired. "Heard all about you. 'Course, only since this morning, but might I say, you are far more enchanting than these blithering idiots' appalling description." He winked.

"All about me, you say?" I couldn't help but ask. They wouldn't…

"Oi, Lee," George started just as Fizzy came back and handed butterbeers out to a call of cheers, "Stop scaring the poor girl."

"Merlin forbid you have another victim to your so called charms," Fred added.

"Don't listen to him Ella," George said, "Lee's always leeching onto girls. Freaked out most of the female population of Hogwarts already, even McGonagall knows to steer clear of the prat." The twins chuckled, seemingly to some inside joke as Lee sneered at them.

"Smoother than you gits," Lee muttered. Then directed his attention onto me again. "So what you doin' down here?"

"Um…" I stammered, not wanting to admit my struggle with first year charms. But then, I also didn't want to explain as to _why_ I was struggling with first year material when I was clearly not a first year. That would bring a whole load more questions I was not willing to answer.

"Charms?" I jumped, banging my head on George's chin. I hadn't noticed he'd gotten up. "What're you doing charms for?"

"No reason, just some light reading," I stuffed the book down the side of the armchair and held tight onto the mug of butterbeer Fizzy gave. "What're you doing here?"

George eyed me, his face frightfully close to mine as he was leaning behind the chair. Before I knew it he was pushing me forward and climbing on behind me.

"Oi! What the hell d'you think you're doing?" I shrieked, scooting back as much as I could to avoid falling off while George spread his legs on either side of me and held my waist firmly.

"Getting comfy, floor's too hard," he reasoned. "And by the smell coming from Fred's feet I reckon he hasn't washed in a good while."

A shoe soared through the air in our direction. I gasped and shut my eyes, George ducking away from the shoe. The smashing of a glass was heard, followed by a, "I is sorting this Miss Ella!"

"Git," Fred chuckled with the boys.

"Fizz!" Lee yelled. She appeared in front of him with a plate of profiteroles. "You're the best!" he exclaimed with a grin and affectionate pat to the head before diving in.

"Give us one!" Fred demanded, only to be met with chocolate smeared on his head. "I swear on Merlin's saggy arse, one day Lee, one day you'll get it."

Lee and George burst out laughing. Even I had to muffle my laughter behind my hand, seeing Fred's red hair coated in melted chocolate. My leg tingled as something hovered over it and I twitched away from the sensation, painfully aware of George's body squished against mine as I moved closer to him.

"Shouldn't you boys be in bed?" I asked, taking a levitating profiterole courtesy of George.

"Should be, yes-"

"But we got bored-"

"And we needed to get George away before he embarrassed himself," Fred finished with a pointed grin to his twin.

"Why would George embarrass himself?" I asked Fred, ignoring George as he mumbled under his breath.

Fred smirked. "Because he was being an idiot making gooey eyes at _Alicia_," he sang out her name. Both he and Lee then scrunched up their faces and puckered their lips, moaning out loud and thumping their backs on their armchairs to create the sound of banging. I shifted uncomfortably at their raucous display.

"And Merlin forbid if she saw! Probably scarper off to the Slytherin common room," Lee said.

"Oi! You're one to talk, Lee. Remember that poor Hufflepuff? This git scared her so bad she actually forgot where her common room was and ended up in the dungeons," George retorted. Lee groaned into his hands and then drained the remainder of his butterbeer, as if it would permanently clear his mind of the, what I can only imagine as being dreadful, incident.

"Still reckon George's infatuation with Alicia is the worst though," Fred remarked once he had composed himself after his fit of silent laughter.

"It's not a ruddy infatuation," George muttered.

"George's right," Lee said, nodding solemnly.

"Our Georgie's been bitten, stung, whacked over the head by the love bug," Fred replied just as gravely, a grim frown on his face.

"Sod off, I'm not in love," George bit back.

"But what about in fourth year with-"

"That was years ago! It doesn't count," he grumbled, a chuckle breaking out after a moment. George wrapped his arms loosely around me, dragging me back until I was leaning against his chest. He removed his arms then and positioned one on the arm of the chair and the other on my thigh. I forced myself to focus on the butterbeer in my hands, still untouched.

Fred's eyes found mine and his gaze darkened ever so slightly. "We must be boring you, Ella."

"No, 'course not," I replied quickly, uncomfortable under his gaze. "You guys sound very suave with the ladies. I need to see you boys in action one day."

Fred scoffed and pointed his wand at the now empty tray that held the profiteroles, frowning upon seeing there were none left. "What about you?" I asked him.

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "What about me?"

"Don't you have any embarrassing stories about a girl you tried to woo?"

Fred opened his mouth to reply, his face twisted in a slight scowl, but was suddenly interrupted.

"Aha!" George exclaimed, one hand firm around my middle and the other holding high my charms book, no longer wedged between me and the armchair. I gasped. "You call this light reading? It's a ruddy massive textbook!"

"George!" I yelled, stretching out an arm to the book and the other desperately fiddling to loosen his arm. "Give it back. It's none of your business!"

One of the qualities I found most endearing about George was his ability to tease endlessly. It always astonished me how happy he always seemed to be, how he could be a sunshine in a storm. And he always knew when to stop. But this was not one of those moments, for he lobbed the book over instead of handing me the book and ending his joke. Lee jumped out of his seat and caught it expertly.

"Should've been a chaser!" the dark skinned boy cheered.

"Oi! Stop- give it!" my fidgeting increased concomitantly with my panic, my fingers now scratching at George's hands. "Seriously guys, stop."

"Whoa, first year charms?" Lee whistled, observing the book. "What're you doing with the first year book for?"

The Troublesome Trio's eyes were on me, waiting for an answer. I stilled in my movements and stood up and away from George, now no longer attempting to restrain me.

"Because…because…"

"Yes?"

I huffed, my eyes trained on the floor. "Because I'm bloody learning it."

I didn't look up to see if they had heard me. Hell, I hoped they hadn't. But luck was not on my side. The silence was broken by laughter. My shock made me look up to see Lee clutching his stomach.

"You-You're…you're l-learning f-f-f-irs-st year magic! What, d-did you f-f-forget _wingardium leviosa? _Swish and flick!"

My face heated up and my eyes burned. Of course he would laugh! He was ignorant just like all other wizards. I blinked harshly, determined not to cry. I had done enough of that over the years.

The twins stood up and marched over to Lee. It was George who pulled Lee up and shoved him hard.

"What the ruddy hell was that for?" Lee yelled, backing up when the twins both pulled out their wands. George held his out, pointed towards Lee. Fred's was hung limply by his side.

"Don't," George started, his voice hard, "Mock her."

Lee frowned, his eyes flitting between George's outstretched wand and his face. "Alright, I won't. It was just a joke." George began to back away, and then Lee spoke again. "I don't see what's wrong with that anyway. First year charms was simple."

"George," I called softly. His face was filled with conflicting emotions. I sighed. "Lee, sit down."

I assumed my armchair again as the other boys took their seats, George sitting on the arm of my chair with his arm rubbing my shoulder.

"What's going on? Why are you guys so…serious?" Lee asked.

"You want to know why I'm reading up on first year charm theory. I'm going to tell you."

"Ella-"

"No, George. He's your friend, if you trust him I don't see why he shouldn't know." My gaze softened. "I can't expect you to keep this from him. Not after all those years of secrecy from Fred," I whispered the end, knowing the hurt Fred went through after finding out the truth. He nodded.

"So then, Lee, I'm not exactly a normal student here…"

* * *

The lemon sherbet was sweet and tangy on my tongue as I sucked on it. Fawkes sat upon his perch, watching me as I observed Dumbledore's office yet again. There were so many objects; far too many to take in on a few visits! For instance, I had never noticed the whizzing ball on his second shelf against the far wall, the gold ring spinning around it, not dissimilar in structure to the planet Saturn. The etchings on the side of his desk were glimmering lazily, like miniature stars stuck to the wood. His office was the most amazing place in the whole of Hogwarts in my opinion.

Fawkes' feathers were soft beneath my fingers. The phoenix hummed contentedly in his chest.

"Ella, how nice to see you again," Dumbledore greeted in his smooth yet gravelly voice. He sat down in his chair and smiled down at me. "How is everything?"

"Good, good. I, er, bumped into some Gryffindors the other day," I said to him.

"Yes, I am aware. How did that go then?"

A large smile escaped my lips despite my teeth dragging my bottom lip up. "Good. Really good. They know."

"Those Weasley's are rather marvellous at accepting others. And Mr Jordan too. Of course, he'd have to be, what with being the twins' closest friend," he smiled knowingly.

"How did you know?" I shook my head. "No- wait, never mind. You know everything." Dumbledore chuckled under his breath lightly.

"And how does it feel – being accepted by three wizards in the space of two days?"

"I feel…" I didn't know what I felt to be honest. Thrilled, obviously. Overjoyed, in fact. Surprised, shocked, absolutely giddy. But there was something else there that I couldn't quite put my finger on. "I feel brilliant. Warm."

"Warm sounds good. And how did Misters Weasley's and Jordan take the news?" he asked, peering over his spectacles and fingering a lemon sherbet.

"The twins were fantastic, George especially. Well, he would be; we've known each other ages. Lee was shocked for a minute, but he got over it pretty quickly. He's fine with it as well though." I smiled, recalling Lee's words straight after my admission.

_Lee eyed me top to bottom, his mouth slightly open and his eyes bugging out from behind his dreadlocks. "You're ruddy hot for a squib. Nothing like Filch, that's for sure."_

_I rolled my eyes and giggled, delighted by the fact that he wasn't being bigoted._

"_So you're cool?" I asked._

_His eyes met mine. "Of course I am! Do I look like I want to gut your organs out and sell them on a corner in Knockturn Alley? No, so shut up and give me some love!" he bellowed, grabbing me in a humongous hug._

"_Don't forget me, gits!" George yelled, hugging us both from behind. "Come on, Freddie-boy! There's still a bit of Ella left for you."_

"_You're all a bunch of morons," he grouched, but nonetheless swung his arms around George and Lee and jumped several times, rumbling our group hug. I laughed up at him when he stopped. Fred met my eyes. The mirth in his face cleared away, replaced by a scowl as he looked away and thumped Lee on the head for his joke on Fred's sexual preferences._

I frowned. Perhaps Fred wasn't as alright about is as I thought…

"I'm glad. Professor McGonagall informed me of a visit from yourself soon. I don't believe it was about this."

"Yes sir, um, I asked her about it…and she advised me to come to you," I said, nervous about how he might react to my query. He is the one who said it was compulsory for me to learn the fundamentals after all.

"And what is it you are wondering about?"

"I was hoping…that maybe, erm…you could- if perhaps I could, kind of…" I heaved in a breath before continuing. "If I could change my subjects."

The headmaster nodded slowly. "I see. And what did you have in mind?"

I stared at him, mouth agape for a moment. "Seriously? Just like that? You're not even going to ask why I want to change them?"

"Would you like me to?" Dumbledore smiled. "No, Ella. You have attempted the core subjects already, and if you feel that you are not comfortable continuing with them, I will allow you to choose what you would like to study. I understand how hard it can be for you to grasp the more magically involved subjects. I'm sure there will be no problem at all with an exception in your case."

A grin crept on my face. "Thank you, sir. That means a lot."

"You are most welcome, Miss Wood. After all, Bill was a large enthusiast of extracurricular subjects, it only seems right for you to take after him," he winked.

The tiny sombre pang hit me again, and a sad smile came onto my face.

"So, shall we review your options?"

"Yes please, sir. That would be wonderful."

"How do you feel about Care of Magical Creatures? It seems Fawkes here has likened to you perfectly well. Perhaps a visit to Hagrid's hut will enable you to get a better idea on what you will have to put up with…"

* * *

"So what are you doing now?" George asked, taking a large swig of butterbeer.

I looked up at him from my cushion on the floor next to his feet, occasionally rubbing his calf as he swung it near me. "I've dropped transfiguration, charms, herbology and defence against the dark arts. Now, I'm doing astronomy, history of magic, potions, ancient runes, muggle studies and care of magical creatures," I said, counting them off my fingers.

"Can't believe you chose to keep potions. I mean, what sane person would do that?" Lee cried, falling back dramatically into his armchair.

"God knows. I'm not too bad at it, although Snape thinks otherwise, but I kind of like it. It's like chemistry, and I was alright at that back at school." The boys frowned at me. "Chemistry. It's sciencey. Mixing chemicals and ingredients like a potion."

The Gryffindors all made noises of assent, to which I rolled my eyes.

"And why muggle studies?"

"I grew up as a muggle in a muggle town. I think I would know more than the average wizard. Should ace the exam with flying colours," I explained, whacking the cushion on George's stomach as he kicked me lightly.

"No arithmancy? Alicia is forever moaning about that lesson. Thought you'd want to challenge yourself a bit at least," Fred said, breaking us out of our mini fight.

I frowned. "Potions isn't easy, it's quite challenging."

"You just said you were good at it," Fred retorted, lifting an eyebrow.

"Well, yes. Doesn't mean it's all easy. And ancient runes isn't exactly a walk in the park either."

Fred let out a loud 'HA!' throwing his head back as he did so. "That's just like learning another language."

"Well what would you rather I do?" I huffed. It had been a long day, despite it being a Saturday. Students had been entering and leaving the kitchen throughout the morning for some snacks from the elves, leaving me to spend much of the day in my dorm in hiding, most of the time on my own. I spent the morning catching up on studying my new subjects, devoting significant time on ancient runes to acquaint myself to the funny symbols and their meanings. And I couldn't start on my care of magical creatures homework until nightfall when all the students would be in bed and the creatures – Hagrid didn't mention what we would be working with tonight – would be wide awake, so I attempted to have a little nap.

Not that I could sleep. Peeves kept bugging the house elves and causing chaos. I had managed to stop him twice, but then he called my bluff on calling the Bloody Baron and flung ink pellets at me, shouting, "Naughty smelly Ellie! Naughty, naughty big-nose Ellie! Need a goo' spanking I seeeeeeeeeee!" No doubt those ink pellets were charmed, for I had to spend ages in the shower to remove the mysterious stench emanating from them.

And now, for Fred to act haughty to my face straight after lunch was the last straw. I was grumpy. I was frustrated. And to top it _all_ off, I was on my bleeding period!

"You know what, I promised I'd spend the afternoon with Angelina. I'm off," Fred jumped out of his seat and stormed out of the portrait hole.

George and Lee stared after him.

"That was…odd," Lee said.

"Very," George frowned. "Lee, how 'bout you grab us our broomsticks and meet me at the pitch. Tell Fred to go there too, I'll see you in a bit."

"But he just said-"

"Invite Ange as well then, she won't dare say no to some Quidditch. Go on, I need a word with Ella."

"Alrighty then," Lee sang, lifting himself out of his seat and following after Fred but not before ruffling my hair a bit.

The kitchen was silent after he left. The house elves weren't even making any noise as they clicked their fingers, cleared the mess and then disappeared off into the dorms.

George plopped down beside me on the floor, crossing his legs and throwing his arm around my shoulder.

"What's wrong with you then, grumpy?" he asked.

"Just a bad day," I muttered.

"And what's this wrong with you and Fred?"

My blood boiled instantly. "Nothing's wrong with us. It's your brother that's the problem."

"I kind of saw that. Any ideas why?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because I'm a squib and he can't bear being near one," I snapped. Hurt flashed on his face and I instantly sobered. "Sorry. It's true though! He was fine before he found out."

"But that's not like Fred. He wouldn't judge you like that," George said, his voice quiet.

"But he did. Come off it George, not everyone is going to accept me. And Fred, sadly, is one of those people." My chest panged as I thought of all the stories George shared with me over the years of him and his brother, who I had not then known was his twin. I longed to be part of their little duo and play with them. Fred sounded amazingly cool and brilliant back then. I hated to say I was jealous of how George spoke so fondly of him but never arranged for us to meet. I so desperately wanted us to be friends one day. And for him to look so…angry at the mere sight of me…it hurt. A lot.

George shook his head. "No. Fred is _not _like that, I swear it. Just try and be friends with him."

I was about to protest about how horrid that idea was only for George to cut me off.

"Please? For me? If he doesn't lighten up you can stop and ignore him forever. I'll go and have a word with him now, see what crawled up his ginger arse, died and decayed all over his bowels." He rubbed my shoulder. "Please?" he pleaded again.

I closed my eyes and counted to five in my head. "Ok. For you," I agreed.

George's infectious smile and bear hug made me laugh, and I thought, for a minute, perhaps it could work. George knew his twin better than anyone else. It would work.


	14. Bonny Life

14\. Bonny Life

* * *

Getting along with Fred proved harder to do than I first expected. Even agreeing to it had been a struggle at the time but this…this was a nightmare. Whenever the twins popped down for a snack or a chat I made a point to ask Fred a question or laugh at his jokes (not that I needed to force it; he was incredibly funny, I found). But he always gave me this weird look, one which I could not discern, before giving in to a scowl and grumbling a short response. It had been that way for the last few days.

The first (and worst) effort to befriend the second Weasley twin happened the day after my agreement when they had come down to the kitchen before dinner.

"We need to know what you're making, Princess! We've got a bet going where if we're right about what's on for dinner tonight, we'll make galleons!" George had pleaded, kneeling in front of my position on the armchair.

"Go and ask the house elves, then. I'm busy," I had replied, nibbling on the end of a quill as I attempted my ancient runes homework. It wasn't as hard as I thought. It was only George's constant nagging that had my head fogged. His hair kept falling into his eyes and he would impatiently brush it away only for it to lazily swing back. How could it be that just by him sitting there I'd be so easily distracted? It was driving me insane. And those damn large eyes…

It was almost as if he didn't want me to study.

"But we can't understand them! They don't speak English, not like you."

I had to lift my eyes to meet his at that. "Last I heard they spoke perfectly well…Mr Wheezy," I grinned.

"See!" He pointed his long finger in my face. "They can't even say Weasley."

"Bugger off, I have to do this."

"Uh, FRED! You come and try, this woman's bloody stubborn."

I paled instantly. I was sure Fred had done so as well but I wasn't about to look at him and check. He had been leaning against the bricks around the fireplace behind George, his hands resting lazily in his pockets and his leg perched up behind him. George's face was urging me to speak up first.

I sighed deeply. "Fred, who's idea was it to make this bet?"

Fred looked up at me, his face somewhat shocked. I smiled softly in encouragement, my eyes flitting to George briefly to see him grinning at me.

"George's," Fred replied.

"And does it bother you if you lose the bet?"

He scoffed. "Of course it bloody does. We need that money. I'm sure you wouldn't understand the importance of wizard money and why _we_ need it."

Silence followed. My mouth hung open and my eyes burned at his stab. Fred stared.

"Oi, what's that supposed to mean?" George demanded.

He didn't reply, just conveyed the meaning to George with a single long look. I wiped my eyes hastily with the sleeve of my jumper behind George's back.

I told the boys the menu for dinner. They probably didn't hear me, or they made no notice of it. Either way, I departed into the bustle of the house elves straight after.

My insecurities played with me at night, taunting me; hopes and dreams of being accepted crushed in a moment. Nightmares plagued me, only lasting seconds; long enough for me to shy away from late night walks and discussions with Dumbledore.

The twins still came every day. I continued to make small talk with Fred, always incited by George first, but stopped after a sentence or two. I didn't want to speak to him. Fear lingered in the back of my head if he ever made a reference to my being a squib again. It was horrible hearing those words from someone who looked exactly like George. Whenever Fred opened his mouth I always found myself wincing; imagining stabbing words coming from George, my only friend at Hogwarts, would destroy me. So I avoided it as much as possible.

My mood dampened as November blew away and December descended, from my busy schedule with homework, classes and cooking, to the polarisation between the Hogwarts house elves and the two new arrivals: Dobby and Winky. Dobby took an instant liking to the twins, giving them whatever they wanted regardless of how extreme and odd their requests were ("A peanut butter and bacon sandwich for me-" "-and a beef trifle with gravy and custard for me.").

Winky, on the other hand, was constantly blubbering and drinking her sorrows down to the bottom of a bottle of butterbeer. All the house elves were disgusted with the both of them; Dobby, for him expressing his freedom, and Winky for dishonouring their race by behaving so abysmally.

No matter how hard I tried, she wouldn't see sense. Everything I said made her cry even harder, made her hate me even more.

And that's what she was doing now: weeping away into a dirty dish towel on a stool somewhere.

"What's this one called?"

"That's moussaka," I answered, swatting George's hand away from the dish as he attempted to prod it.

"And this one?" he asked, pointing to a steaming pot. He was without Fred today, something about the crabby twin not spending enough time with his friends. It had stung a bit when George said that, that the Fred Weasley who I had heard stories about throughout the years, the same Fred who I had been dying to meet, to play with, didn't recognise me as a friend, but as an inferior. But then I realised the alternative would be him being in the kitchen with us and making everything awkward and tense, and I sighed in relief. Especially seeming as I was thinking of George all day, waiting by the minutes for his pleasant company.

"Kavarma," I replied absentmindedly, stirring the pot over a house elf's head and droopy ears.

"What 'bout this one?"

"Bouillabaisse."

"This?"

"Shepherd's pie, idiot."

"Ooh, what's-"

"George!" I snapped. He jumped away from the tart and grinned at me.

"Yes, Ella dearest?"

"Quit it, I'm busy," I said, rushing to chop some vegetables on a nearby table while mentally revising the twelve uses for dragons blood. _Oven cleaner…Spot remover…curing certain injuries…_

"Whyyyyyy?" George groaned. "Sit down for a minute."

"I can't. Go and…prank Snape or something."

George hopped onto the table beside the chopping board. "How 'bout Filch? Y'know, I don't think he fully appreciated the Boil-ing Bonbons in his tea from the other day. Not enough boils on his nose, I reckon. I'm sure Fred has some more stashed away in-"

"No," I said firmly, placing all my attention on George. "You will do no such thing to Filch."

George frowned. "Why not? You were all for us pranking Snape a minute ago."

"Yes, but that's Snape," George furrowed his eyebrows and gestured for me to explain further. "Snape can sort himself out within seconds after whatever you do to him. Filch can't."

"And that's what makes it so funny," he drawled as if he were speaking to a child.

I slammed the knife down on the table. Several house elves jumped upon hearing the sound resonate in the kitchen. Winky's incessant crying carried on. "Because he's a squib."

George's eyes widened in realisation. I moved back to the stove, now recalling the differences between Monkhood and Wolfsbane.

"Ella, I didn't mean that! Shit, I'm sorry."

I ignored him.

"Come on Ella. I'll prank Snape, just for you."

_Same plant…also known as aconite…_

"You know I didn't mean it! What's wrong with you today?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You of all people should know what today is."

George quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah. I do. It's the 3rd December. Thursday, to be more accurate."

"Unbelievable," I scoffed. "The one day that I thought I could actually rely on you, and you just…"

"Just what?" he asked, his voice low.

I licked my dry lips and looked up to the high ceiling. Above us, the students and professors were slowly piling into the Great Hall for their dinner. "You forgot."

And without another word I turned around and walked into the cupboard to my dorm.

There was a narrow hallway with a small ceiling. I had to duck down slightly so as not to hit my head. After all, Helga Hufflepuff couldn't have expected a squib to be working amongst elves, so why would she provide facilities suited for us? Doors were lined up along the wall, each with a number from one to thirty-two. The house elves were roomed in a group of three or four, Dobby and Winky having their own dorms. I shuffled towards the door with the number one carved into it. Thankfully Dumbledore gave me the first door so I wouldn't have to walk far down the small hall hunched over.

I pushed the door open to the dorm I shared with Bonnie, the ceilings magicked higher. The calendar on the wall beside the full length mirror stared back at me. The violent purple and green circled around the 3rd December over and over again. I walked over to it. There was a picture on the mirror, one that was taken years ago. Nanny Anne's pale face and blonde frizz with only the faintest hint of grey smiled out of the unmoving picture; Bill's small eyes disappeared into the mass of hair on his face and his hat, but they held his usual twinkle, the love for Nanny Anne evident in his every feature. And then there was me. Little ten year old me, grinning with massive and gapped teeth, stretching myself up on my toes. My chestnut brown hair was in a bun that had been sleek and elegant in the morning but mussed up after running around with Jimmy, highly contrasting my floral dress that I had been forced into just for the picture. Both Nanny Anne's and Bills arms were around me.

Tears were trailing silently down my face once I'd finished analysing the picture; my first ever happy family picture with no forced smiles or rigid postures. The photographer had been a muggle and wouldn't allow Jimmy in it (although if you looked very closely you could see the tip of a nose and the edge of a purple party hat just about poking in). I lifted my fingers to ghost over each individual, starting with little me…moving onto grizzly bear Bill…and then Nanny Anne. Bonny Nanny Anne.

_The morning was cold when I snuck out the house, Jimmy hot on my heels. Well, I wasn't exactly sneaking out – I had Bill's permission to leave before either him or Nanny Anne awoke. But I had to be quiet: Nanny Anne had a tendency to wake up before everyone and get started on breakfast and some early morning shopping._

_So, it was with quick, silent feet that Jimmy and I ran down the market. The streets were blissfully barren as we stopped outside Imogen's Bakery, chugging in as much cold air._

"'_Bout time you got here," came his voice._

"_Wasn't sure whether you were able to come," I answered breathlessly._

"_Well here I am! Did you really doubt me?"_

"_It's not like you could magic yourself sick enough to get off school early," I scoffed. He returned it with a cheeky smile._

"_You never know, I could be a wizard!"_

_I scoffed. "Yeah, yeah, alright George. Now come on, we need to go shops."_

_He saluted me. "Yes ma'am! Where to first?"_

"_Imogen's, duh. Idiot." George shoved me into the bakery roughly, making me stumble._

"_Watch it, little one," he smirked. I stuck my tongue out at him._

"_Oh, not you two again," Imogen huffed upon seeing us in front of the counter but couldn't help a smile._

_George grinned. "Lovely Immy! Boy, do we have an order for you today."_

_After retrieving all of our goods from various stores, we returned home, greeted by the silence, punctuated only by Bill's outrageous snored. We giggled as we heard a light slap, and Bill's snoring halted momentarily…before resuming after a moment even louder._

"_To the kitchen," I whispered to George. _

_Jimmy led the way and we placed our bags on the circular dining table. After dishing out the orders, we each got started on emptying the bags and sorting them into cupboards, onto plates and trays and all over the kitchen. We were done within the hour, just as the two adults began to wake._

"_Shh!" George hushed my excited giggling and clamped a hand over my mouth, but he, too, had a hint of a grin on the corners of his lips._

"_Come on, you old sod, time to get up," we heard Nanny Anne._

"'_M up, you crazy, bonny woman, 'm up," drawled Bill's sleep laden voice._

"_I'll get started on breakfast while you get off your bum." _

_That seemed to stir Bill awake as he suddenly exclaimed, "WAIT!"_

"_What? What is it?" Nanny Anne fussed._

"_I'll come down with yer, now."_

_The sounds of their blanket rustling and slippers shuffling along the floor alerted us to them coming down the stairs._

"_One…" George whispered into my ear, his hot breath hitting my freezing ear and tickling me._

"_Two…" I giggled. Their footsteps were down the stairs now._

"_Three!" we said as the two figures emerged into the kitchen. "Happy Birthday, Nanny Anne!"_

_The old woman jumped back into Bill and stared at the kitchen. A large banner held up above the window read 'Happy 21__st__ Birthday Gorgeous', food was laid out all over the kitchen, all of Nanny Anne's favourites (and a few of Bill's), gold, green and red tinsel was wrapped around the chairs, glitter adorned the floor, and Jimmy was wearing a bright purple party hat. Nanny Anne was speechless._

"_Happy 21__st__ birthday, gorgeous," George winked._

_Nanny Anne let out a giggle. "Well, I wouldn't be so sure about that now, love."_

"_What? Nonsense! You don't look a day over 18," he grinned._

"_If I weren' absolutely sure, I'd say you were hittin' on my wife," Bill chuckled._

"_She's beautiful, that's for sure."_

"_Far too bonny for me," Bill agreed. He was swatted in the chest by Nanny Anne._

"_This…this…I can't even…this is…"_

"_You like it?" I asked timidly._

_She turned her kind eyes on me. "What were you doing out of bed so early without us knowing, young lady?"_

_My eyes widened. "Wha...NO! Bill said to, he gave me permission!"_

_Nanny Anne laughed her musical laugh. "I'm just joking my love. This is wonderful! I can't believe you all did this for me."_

"_You're worth it and more." Bill wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pecked her on the cheek, only for George and me to groan in protest. "Oh, hush it yous!"_

"_So, then…can we eat?" George asked._

_Everyone laughed and sat around the table for breakfast._

"_Say, George, shouldn't you still be in school? It's only your first year!" Nanny Anne asked._

"_I got really, really sick. So sick that I couldn't stay in the hospital wing and had to come home," George said solemnly, shovelling another mouthful of food._

"_Should yer really be havin' some cake for breakfas' if yer sick?"_

"_I'm better now!"_

_After breakfast was eaten and cleared, we all took seats in the living room. George had excused himself to go home, leaving his present for Nanny Anne under the table and promising to come back soon to see how she liked it. His departing mischievous grin left us all anxious as to what he got her. _

"_Well, seeing as it's my birthday, I say we have a family picture." Bill and I agreed. "And I thought you could wear that pretty new dress, Ella."_

_I was about to groan and protest loudly as to why that was a horrid idea, but then I saw her small smile. The smile that I couldn't ever deny, no matter what it was asking. So I nodded and put it on with some boots and a jacket to combat the cold air. The photographer took our picture quickly and we stood together, looking at it for a few moments._

"_My family." Nanny Anne murmured._

"_Ay, my crazy, bonny family."_

I wasn't sure how long I stayed in my dorm but when I returned to the kitchen dinner was being cleared up and the chatter from above had gone, along with many of the house elves. The absence of crying made me turn to Winky's corner, only to see she wasn't there. I sighed in relief.

Bonnie gave me a sad smile as I walked past her, but said nothing. The fire was roaring when I made it to my armchair. But it wasn't empty. A red head was lightly snoring, sprawled out on the chair.

"George?" I called, nudging him in the shoulder softly. He made no response so I did it again, calling his name louder.

His head shot up and blinked up at me. "Ella!" George jumped up and hugged me tight. "I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry, I swear I didn't mean to forget. You know I would've come straight to you if I had known. Merlin, I'm the biggest prat ever!"

"I'm okay, George, really. I've calmed down, I overreacted," I reassured him, tightening my arms around his neck.

"I should have been more…sensitive."

I laughed into his shoulder. "Did it kill you to say that?"

"Hell yes!" He pulled away. "I really am so-"

"George, shut up. It's not your fault. I always get a bit…"

"Crabby? Stuffy? Cranky? Arse-y? Bitchy?"

"Emotional," I said, "on this day."

George rubbed my shoulders and nodded. "At least you're not about to chew my balls off now."

I smacked his arm. "I wouldn't chew your balls if you paid me," I mumbled.

He tugged me down beside him on the armchair and leaned his head on mine as we stared into the fire. But, of course, it would be absurd for George Weasley to stay quiet for a few minutes.

"So that cupboard…"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes…?"

"What the hell is it? All I saw was spiders and cockroaches and rats guts."

"You did not see rat's guts!" I exclaimed.

"I ruddy well did! And a leprechaun shoe. But really, what is it?"

I jumped up off the seat and pulled George up by the hand. "Come with me, I'll show you," I said.

"Bonnie!" the tiny house elf appeared with a _pop_. "Can you do me a favour please?"

"Oh, yes! Anything for Miss Ella!" she yelled with glee.

"Can you let George come into the dorm please?" I could feel George staring into the back of my head.

"Of course, of course, of course!" Bonnie ran over to the cupboard and clicked her fingers, then bowed low to us. "Bonnie is done, Miss Ella."

I bid her thanks and pulled George to the cupboard. "Feast your eyes…" I smirked at his confused, yet intrigued expression. The handle turned easily in my hand and I pulled the door open and bent low in the hall, hurriedly opening the first door and straightening myself inside it.

"Ow!" George cursed, rubbing his head as he followed me inside. "What in the name of Merlin's left bollock is this?" He asked, mesmerised as he stood up straight in my dorm.

I grinned. "Welcome to my dorm."

"You stay here?"

"Yup."

"Bloody hell. This is fantastic," he murmured, his eyes watching everything in the room. They landed on the photo by the mirror and he smiled sadly. "I knew I should have stayed, that photo would have been amazing with me in it."

"I'm sure it would," I replied, sitting on my bed and leaning back against the headboard.

George slowly walked over, still staring all around, and sat down cross legged at the foot of my bed. "I never even thought of where you might be sleeping."

I shrugged. "It could've been worse; I could've been stuck in the dungeons near Snape."

George chuckled and stretched his legs out, making himself more comfortable. "Nice bed."

"I'm sure it's not as good as yours."

My face heated as George grinned. Before I could redeem myself George was quick to reply. "Want to try and see?"

My pillow contacted his face with a _thump_. "No! You know what I meant, arse."

"Yeah, yeah, sure, sure. You can't deny your sexual attraction bubbling away for me- OW! WOMAN!"

We spent a long time just talking and catching up without the gauche presence of his twin lingering around us. It was nice, being with just George again, talking about nonsense that only we knew.

And then a loud voice broke through our conversation ("So then Fred, the less attractive twin, leaned against a suit of armour, fell arse over tit and completely botched the plan! And Susan thinks we're gawky stalkers now! Unbelievable.") George and I shared a confused look before moving out into the kitchen where the voice became much clearer and louder.

"Fred? What are you doing here?" George asked his fuming twin, amused.

"What am I doing here? Are you insane!? You disappear for ages to talk to your little friend, you miss dinner, even though they had shepherd's pie, and then you're still not back after another hour! What the hell have you been doing?" Fred yelled, his face as red as his hair and his arms flying about him.

"Whoa, easy mate," George soothed, holding up his hands in an attempt to calm his brother.

"You missed dinner?" I asked from behind George, my voice as angry as Fred's. "Why didn't you say anything? God, you idiot. Let me rustle something up for you." I manoeuvred around the kitchen and pulled out pans and food.

"How could you not know he didn't eat? Weren't you here?" Fred asked.

"Fred, leave her," George said. "I fell asleep when she was busy. No biggie."

Fred sighed and shook his head at his brother. "How can you call yourself a Weasley, a Weasley twin, no less, if you miss a meal?"

George smiled. "Happens in the presence of a bonny girl."

My movement halted for a split second and a smile crept onto my face, remembering Bill say that many times before.

"I guess you're excused then."

Once again my mouth fell open from the words of Fred Weasley. I turned to face Fred. He was looking at George but once I faced him, he flashed a quick smile, so quick I had to think twice on whether or not it actually happened.

"Great!" George clapped his hands grinning madly.

The twins left shortly after, and for the first time there was no hostility between me and Fred. George ended up taking an armful of sweets and desserts out with him; Fred taking some more savoury foods for them to share.

And then Dumbledore summoned me.

His words were soft and slow, but I couldn't hear them. No, I was still reeling over what he said minutes again.

"If you so wish, I can arrange a visit for you to return home to Ottery for the holidays; I'm sure you are greatly missing your friends. Of course, you will not need to leave for the entire break, not after you hear what I have planned for the students on Christmas Eve…"

And he went on, and on, something about a ball, another thing about clothes…he was endless! I waited patiently for him to return to the subject of Ottery St. Catchpole. It seemed to take forever, but eventually, he asked me again.

I said yes.

Memories and thoughts of being reunited with Zoe and Nate won over any rational thought. I didn't care about my cover story as to why I had suddenly disappeared one day without any hint as to where I had gone. All my mind was focused on was the warm, crushing arms of my friends; their gigantic smiles and crude humour; their contrasting personalities that fit so well together.

Nostalgia hit me hard. And all of a sudden I didn't care about anything else but my two older friends. In just a few weeks I'd be sitting with them by the fire and an over decorated tree with way too many baubles and loads of bells and tinsel, each with some hot chocolate or egg nog, surrounded by torn up wrapping paper. We'd go out and watch the fireworks late at night in the town square and play with sparklers.

Regardless of whether I would be there on Christmas or not, we would fulfil Ottery' traditions. And this ball Dumbledore had planned…well, that sounded like a disaster.


	15. For the First Time

15\. Gryffindor Courage

* * *

The Yule Ball was announced to the students a few days later and rumours spread like wildfire on a scorching day in Australia instantly. Secret notes were left in the kitchen, sharing news of a band of veelas in their famous translucent, shimmery dress robes to be present, and a magical circus act, choreographed by the groundskeeper Hagrid, infamous for possessing dangerous – and often illegal – creatures. On a trip to the girls bathroom in the middle of the night had me stumbling upon unrequited love notes all over the walls in a particular stall (I couldn't wait to tell George the sordid notes in his name and Fred's!). They were all unbelievably sickening. Lee proudly boasted of starting rumours himself, taking claim to the salacious veelas whisper and something about a disco Dumbledore…

If all things were found to be true, this wouldn't be such a terrible Ball after all.

The imminent arrival of Christmas was visible all around the castle, the kitchen more elaborately decorated by far. While the house elves furnished the castle remarkably, the kitchen was free reign to their imaginations. Tinsel hung in the oddest of corners; baubles sat over benches; streamers and confetti littered over all over the furniture; hats, gloves and socks hung on anything overhead (overhead to the house elves, waist high for me. But I managed to snag a few accessories for myself). In other words, it was a warzone awaiting its first victim.

"There's my favourite little house elf!"

And of course, with the impending Christmas came an over excited Weasley. One who most certainly would appreciate the flamboyant décor.

"Hello George," I greeted, giggling as he circled his arms around my waist from behind and played with the edge of my apron.

"How d'you know I'm not Fred?"

"Oh please, I'm not an idiot. Fred wouldn't come anywhere near me unless he was charmed in a body sized bubble and had a ten foot pole between us."

"Oi," George scolded, pinching my waist. "Don't be a git forever."

"Sorry," I said. He removed his arms. I picked up the end of my apron and swished it around. "Like?"

He made a show of inspecting the fabric, hand on chin, then made a face. "Bluh! Far too Slytherin green, not enough red. And what are _those?_"

I swatted his arm. "Arse. It's Christmassy and new. Bonnie made it for me. And those are ducks…I think."

The elfin matriarch had given it to me that morning, exclaiming she was far too excited to wait until Christmas morning. It was hunter green – _not _Slytherin green – with red edges and yellow splodges dotted around that looked more like fuzzy puff balls than ducks. It was shorter on one side and pinched in a corner. It was perfect.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. It's ugly. Now then," he clapped his hands violently and smirked, his eyes shadowed behind his shaggy hair, making him look far too devious to be comfortable, "Speaking of Christmassy, I figured you could do with some human interaction. I mean look, you're even dressing like Dobby!"

I had thrown on odd socks and a fuzzy and snug pink jumper, matched with an orange and green hat (thank you again, Bonnie) with a now dirty skirt. Spending all day in the company of elves who wore rags and towels as togas, I didn't very much feel to coordinate my clothing. I made a point of eyeing up George's oddly patterned attire and attempted to lift a brow at him.

He grinned. "You look stupid doing that."

My eyebrows drew back down and I rolled my eyes, returning to the bench behind me with the cookie dough, mumbling a, "so do you," under my breath.

"Ella! Come one, you'll love everyone up in Gryffindor. Ok, ok, you won't be meeting everyone, just us lot. And Fred and Lee are waiting for you. We'll have a mini party. There are drinks ready with your name on it!" he sang.

A witty remark about how he had drinks (most likely not age appropriate) sizzled on the tip of my tongue but one glance at George and I was done for, and he saw it. Without a seconds hesitation he grabbed my arm and ran out of the warm kitchen, my hat flying back from the instantaneous speed. And then he stopped, leaving me to run into his shockingly hard back. He stood there motionless, and as if under the imperius curse, winded his arm around my neck. For a moment I was sure he was going to strangle me, but then he kneaded his fist on my head. I shrieked and pushed against his torso, the friction of his knuckles against my skull unbearable and stinging. It was over far too soon but not quick enough, and as I grasped his booming laughter I swung at him.

"What the bloody hell was that for?!" I yelled, punching his arm again.

His continuous laughter had his face a burning red and he had moved against the wall to keep from falling.

"You-your…your face! You…" I patiently waited for him to overcome his bout of laughter. It was contagious; I had to turn away to refrain from laughing myself. "That's what you get for saying I look stupid, stupid," George said. He grabbed my arm again and swooped me up seven flights of stairs.

In no time at all we stood before the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, the image of a tremendously fat lady staring down at us from within the large portrait. I was panting heavily from the run and my hair flew wickedly around my face out of its plait. George assured me it would have been a much longer trek had we taken the conventional route rather than all the hidden passageways behind musky tapestries and crumbling statues. She stared at us, her brows furrowing into her sunken eyes.

"Oh, do hurry up you, boy!"

"But my love-"

"Don't start that rubbish with me again, Weasley!" Her swollen face flushed a violent red, heavily resembling a tomato.

"George," I called as he made a move closer to the portrait, "I can't…"

"Yes, you can. You've been fine with Fred and Lee, honestly, it can't get much worse," he reassured gently, although it only elicited sweaty palms and the thumping of a heartbeat in my ears.

Loud, raucous laughter turned the corner accompanied by fast heavy feet.

"Oi, oi! What you doing here, Ella?" Lee grinned as they approached us and swung me off my feet into a hug. I hadn't had time to use George's tall body to hide me.

"She's come to meet the girls. What were you guys doing? I thought you were already in there with them?" George said, holding firmly to my wrist when I attempted to sneak away. Bugger.

"We were…" Lee started.

"But then they started jabbering on about dress robes and shoes and nail paint or something, so we thought a little prank would do us some good-"

"-Bring us back into the real world, y'know."

All three boys visibly shuddered at the mention of female objects of desire.

"You alright there, Ella? Look a bit ill, you do," Lee asked.

My mouth opened to respond but words failed me. I nodded.

"She'll be fine- you'll be fine! Stop getting your knickers in a twist," George scolded, pinching me yet again.

"I'm perfectly happy to sort that out for you any day, Elles," Lee winked. I smiled at his attempt to relax me.

"George, you sure 'bout this?" Fred said to his twin.

George huffed and pushed Lee towards the portrait. It swung open upon his words and, with a Weasley twin on either side of me, I took my first step into the Gryffindor common room.

Back home in Ottery St. Catchpole my room was softly furnished with purples and white and old wooden furniture. Every stain, every rip in the fabrics and cracks on the wall and squeaks in the doors…it was perfect; the epitome of comfort. This kitchen dorm, although plenty woody, was not quite so colourful and bright, what with it being underground, the only illumination coming from the floating candles and the fireplace. The Gryffindor common room was the most fantastically warm place I had ever laid my eyes upon. It was the absolute definition of rustic opulence with its rich red and gold furnishings. The added laughter and friendly conversations was the mood of the room brought to life.

"There are our girls!" a twin yelled. The boys all gravitated towards a trio of girls settled around a glowing fireplace with a crate of bottles almost empty. With the twins now adopting the same facial expressions I couldn't tell Fred from George. But that was the least of my worries.

"Dungbombs again boys? Please try being a bit more original," a brunette, her legs curled up under her and cuddling a thick cushion on her lap, said, her face scrunching up from the sickening smell. A twin flopped down on the plush sofa between her and another girl.

"Katie! You're not supposed to be encouraging these idiots," said a dark skinned girl. The twin between them hugged them by their necks and twiddled their loose hair.

"Idiots!" an outraged Lee exclaimed, hand over heart behind the sofa. "How the fair maidens wound us so!"

"Dear Alicia, you do not feel the same, surely?" said the twin from his seat on the edge of an armchair occupied by a gorgeous blonde, his finger trailing down her cheek. _Alicia._

"Of course not, Fred! Your face is far too cute to be considered idiotic," Alicia said, her eyes rolling theatrically.

"I thought that was George?" A confused Katie eyed up the two boys, hoping their matching grins would answer her.

"Forget it, Kates. Merlin knows how Leesh tells them apart."

"Isn't it obvious ladies?" George waited the length of a dramatic pause. "I'm the handsomer twin! Obviously Ali would realise when that ugly mug would sit with her. Shame you girls haven't caught on yet."

A cushion flew across the room and George dived. The cushion made contact with the dark skinned girls face.

"Fred!" she shrieked.

"Sorry, Lina." Fred visibly winced and made to move behind a grinning Alicia.

"Go on and kiss it better, Fred," Lee goaded. Him and George simultaneously puckered their lips and smacked them with much exaggeration. The two girls giggled.

"Come on, Lina, let's see the damage." Fred, steeling his nerves, kneeled before her and gripped her struggling face firmly for his inspection. "Oh yes, incredibly bruised and damaged. Nothing a good kiss from Healer Weasley can't solve."

Before a moment's hesitation he pressed his lips to hers.

"Oi, move over will ya. Some people want to get in."

I turned around to a small boy glaring up at me. Behind him were four others.

"Sorry," I murmured and moved further into the room and out of the shadows of the entrance.

Six pairs of eyes were on me, three of those pairs calculating and two others excited.

"We were beginning to wonder whether you left us," George said, now next to Alicia as Fred was seated comfortably between the other girls in much the same position George had been in.

Lee leaped over the heads on the sofa and wrapped his arms around me. "Accusing us of letting off dungbombs when we were with this cutie here. Girls, I'd like to introduce you to Ella."

The twins got up and surrounded me, introducing me to their Gryffindor friends. Three perfect friendly smiles greeted me and I offered weak hello's on response. So far so good.

"So what house are you in, Ella? We've never seen you before," Alicia asked kindly.

From my closer position on the sofa between Katie and Angelina – Fred and Lee seated by their legs on the floor – Alicia's every feature came into focus. George's words all those months ago were pale in comparison to her physical appearance. Her hair was like flowing gold, velvety and glossy in the in the dim room; her green eyes sparkled vibrantly like the rare emeralds found in royal Egyptian ruins. Her skin was perfect, and sitting beside George she was beauty multiplied by the hundreds, thousands. I shuffled self-consciously, increasingly aware of my knotted messy hair standing on edge around the hairband lost in the depths of my hair, the slickness of my hands and underarms and my predictable pubescent blemished face.

"I'm…uh" my mind whirred with a million responses on how to answer. The truth, or a lie?

"She's in Katie's year," George said.

"Not in any of our classes," Fred added.

Katie visibly lit up. "Really? Are we in any classes together?"

I tried shaking my head. "No," I managed to say, my voice coming out surprisingly stronger than how I was feeling.

"Oh. Why's that?"

A beats silence. And then I made my mind up.

"Because I'm not in a house. I work in the kitchen. I'm a squib."

In all honesty I wasn't sure what I was expecting. The twins and Lee trusted them and if they were all such good friends, so could I. It wasn't an immediate acceptance like how it was with Lee. The girls all shared looks with each other and then with the boys who all nodded. Lee rubbed his hand on my leg, noticing my unease. I jumped, startled. All this anxiety was not good for me.

Her glorious green eyes found mine and a smile blossomed across her face. Her angelic voice broke out, and we all laughed like lifelong friends.

People entered and left the darkening common room, eventually retreating to their dorms at the late hour until it was just us. The girls hadn't asked many demanding questions, for which I was thankful for. Rather they joked about my first human experience in the castle with the twins and how no matter what they had said, they didn't generalise for the rest of the student population. George retaliated to this by tackling Alicia, heaving her onto his lap once her voice turned hoarse from squealing. Fred immediately began his taunts to the duo again – Alicia was a lucky bird to steal George away from his womanising and bachelor ways (to which he had a crude reply ready, arousing blushes from all the girls).

It would be a lie if I said it didn't affect me. George was always so attentive to me when it was just us. For him to ignore me as if I was a helpless tramp he found on the street was pretty painful. And Fred never stopped.

Lee played with my fingers, picking off the dry dough, and tapped on my short and neat nails with his own. The conversation was on a recent incident in potions involving a Slytherin and Ravenclaw, I believe. My focus was on the cuddling pair on the armchair. His one hand stroked her arm while the other was in her hair.

"Ella?" Angelina's face came into view and I blinked at her.

"Sorry? I'm kind of tired," I responded lamely. "Don't mind me, what were you saying?"

"I was just wondering what Snape's like when it's only you. He absolutely hates us Gryffindors, hates Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws less and adores his little snakes," she sneered, "But you're not in a house. What's he like?"

"Not so bad, I guess. He's not exactly Mr Sunsh-"

"Oi! You two, get a room. Any closer and you might as well be fu-"

"Fred!"

"What? Don't give me that look, Lina. They're being too intimate in a ruddy public place."

"Shut it. That's not even remotely intimate compared to what you were doing with what's-her-name-Billie last week. Sorry Ella, you were saying?"

"Oh, just that he can be a bit-"

"Oh Merlin help us, now she's giggling. George! Stop whispering naughty things into her ear you git!" Fred yelled across the room again.

"Fred!" Angelina chastised.

"Look at where his hand is! Exactly – you can't even see it."

"Leave them be. He's a bit…?"

"A bit…a bit cra-"

"Oh, don't you start as well, Lee."

"What am I doing?" Lee sat up straighter, his hand leaving mine.

"Fred, stop it," Angelina scolded harshly, hitting him around the head. Katie had fallen asleep against the arm of the sofa and was snoring softly.

"S'not my fault these two are molesting people in front of my innocent eyes."

"Innocent eyes? Seriously Fred?"

"You dare doubt me, love?" Fred gasped and collapsed against my legs, his head thrown back. He sat up straight away and scooted closer to Angelina's legs.

An explosion sounded from a corner. Katie screamed awake and flipped over the sofa and onto the floor with a thump.

"Damn, too slow. Note: recalculate the timing and dosage of erumpent horn," George said to Fred, both eyeing the smoke drifting around with blackened crisps of parchment.

"Erumpent horn? Where the bloody hell would you two get that from?" Angelina's eyes were as round as tennis balls; an uncanny resemblance to the house elves. The boys ignored her, muttering ingredients and brewing processes.

My head was pounding. The bickering between Angelina and Fred started up again. And then we were laughing: Katie, Lee, George and I as Alicia grinned at the display, shaking her head in amusement.

"You guys are the weirdest couple ever." Katie laughed. This new revelation cleared my head a bit.

"Kates, we're _not_ together," Angelina stressed, as if the mere thought of being considered in a relationship with the Weasley twin was repulsive.

"Not yet," Alicia murmured.

"Just ask her to the Yule Ball and go snog in a corner," Lee said.

"Why does the guy have to ask? That's so…sexist. And demeaning."

"Go on then, Ange, you ask him."

She scoffed. "Are you mental? I am not going to the Yule Ball with him."

Fred pulled a face but was interrupted before he could retaliate.

"I still need to get my dress robes!" Alicia alerted the group. "Mum didn't pack any, said I'd be better off buying my own."

"I need some shoes as well to go with mine."

At Katie's words the boys all groaned and slumped.

"Must we endure another conversation on bleeding colourings and fabrics," Lee grumbled.

"What d'you mean 'endure another'? You lot always scarper before we even get started," Alicia laughed.

"You better not be complaining, Jordan. Or do you want me to go with Terry instead?" Katie challenged, crossing her arms and staring him down.

"Lee asked you?" I blurted out. I hadn't had time to even process her words before the question was out.

"As friends," Lee said.

"And I can still withdraw my answer."

"But you forget, I'm doing you a favour by being your date, love," Lee winked.

Katie narrowed her eyes at him then gave up her stare as his unwavering grin showed no signs of slipping off. She mumbled a low, "arse," before leaning back into her corner of the sofa.

"I've got my eye on that gorgeous Beauxbatons boy," Angelina piped up.

"Which one?" George questioned.

"The one that always says _bonjour Mon Cherie_, and kisses my hand before meals."

"You mean Francis?" Katie asked, her eyes wide and bright. "He's asked you?"

"Not yet, no," her beautiful face fell slightly.

"He seems keen though. Really keen. Bound to ask you soon, Ange. Or you could always surprise him and beat him to it, y'know; independent woman!" Alicia smiled encouragingly to which Angelina smiled appreciatively back.

"What d'you want a French bloke for when you've got us dashing Gryffindors?" Fred exclaimed. As if on cue, he, Lee and George began flexing their arms in all sorts of ridiculous poses.

"Like you don't want a piece of those half veelas!"

The three boys smiled dreamily. A series of appreciative thoughts tumbled out of their mouths as if they had no power to keep their mouths shut.

"Thank Merlin…"

"Those legs…"

"Her lips…"

"Silver knickers…"

Everyone turned to Fred at his last wistful comment.

"What? Her legs were wide open at dinner!"

We all submerged into uncontrollable laughter.

"Ella, are you coming to the Ball?" Katie's voice brought me to the centre of attention.

"Oh, I haven't really thought about it."

It was true, I hadn't, despite it being obvious everywhere and almost all the time. My mind was too excited for my impending visit back to Ottery that I hadn't much thought of the Ball, to which I would probably be at Hogwarts by. In fact, I didn't even know whether I was allowed to go…

"You should come!" the girls all encouraged.

"Oi Kates, you're dumped. Ella, you'll be my date won't you?" Lee winked, trailing his fingers up my calf and circled my knee.

I leaned closer to his face and smiled sweetly. "I'd rather eat dragon dung."

The group burst into laughter at Lee's perturbed expression and I patted his head consolingly.

"Never mind, Kates, you're un-dumped."

She rolled her eyes. "Yay for me."

"You guys call us weird," Angelina commented.

"You two are going to get married one day," I said.

Lee laughed wildly and Katie stared, horrified. Watching them interacting I was reminded of Zoe and Nate. Although these two teased each other far more mercilessly and there was no awareness to a seemingly unrequited admiration, they were exactly alike. They would get married.

"That's a good one, Ella," George said, wiping his eyes and then Alicia's.

"I'm anticipating that day already," Alicia said, her face slightly flushed.

They probably thought I was joking. I was ok with that.

The smell of breakfast always woke me up in the best mood. For once I was glad the house elves started preparing breakfast without me. I mentally noted to get an extra-large present for Bonnie for allowing me extra sleep. The twins and Lee greeted me, settled on the armchairs by the fireplace.

"What are you guys doing here?" I asked through a yawn.

"Coming to get you. You sleep good?" George said.

"Get me? Where am I going?"

George grinned. "Why, to the Great Hall of course."

"Is this a joke?" I chuckled nervously, glancing at the boys.

"Nope, 'fraid not. Our jokes are funny. That's not really very funny."

It had been a few days since my first visit to the Gryffindor common room. I went there once again the night before on the insistence of George but I had focused my attention on my duties and school work for the most part.

"You're taking me to the Great Hall? For breakfast? Where everyone will see me?" His proposition was finally dawning on me, waking me up completely before I even started on my morning ritual of a cup or two of tea.

"Yup."

"Now?"

"Of course."

"No time like the present."

"Here, take this, help you with your Gryffindor courage," George handed me his school robe and I shrugged it on, tempted to correct him with my lack of house status, thus excluding me from its famous attribute.

I could have delayed them. Or put up a fight. But in the back of my mind I knew I needed to do this. I was just glad I had George pushing me.

"George," Fred said, his voice low. "Are you sure about this?"

"Of course I'm bloody sure. She can handle it."

"But everyone will see. They would all notice a new face."

"So what? We'll be with her. Are you…don't tell me you're embarrassed? Fred!"

Their conversation was quiet and probably not meant for me to hear. Lee pulled me into his side and cleared his throat loudly.

"Shall we, Weasleys?"

It was still rather early and students were milling about the Entrance Hall excitedly. Lee had squeezed my shoulders on his parting when Katie had called to him from around the corner. The twins were walking ahead of me, whispering heatedly over a piece of crumpled parchment. The closer we got to the Great Hall the more crowded the clusters of students became. Eventually the twins' bright head of hair were lost to me and I struggled through the bodies to find them, pulling George's robe closer to my body. I considered calling out to them but so far no one paid me any mind and I didn't want to change that.

People paraded into the Great Hall seemingly all at once. A group of tiny girls ran past, shoving me to the side. I bumped into a much larger and bulkier body and fell to the floor.

"Are you ok?"

A boy stood above me, holding out a thick caramel hand.

"Yes, I'm fine," I replied.

"That was a nasty fall. Might not want to walk into Montague again though," he said, pulling me up and inspecting my head. "No permanent damage." I thought of Fred and Angelina in the common room and hoped it wasn't wizard custom to kiss any non-existent damage.

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind." His gold eyes strayed to the emblem on George's robe still engulfing me. He smiled.

"Gryffindor, eh? Seem more like a Hufflepuff to me."

I didn't know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult, so I stayed silent. Still no sign of any vibrant orange hair.

"What year are you in? I don't think I recognise you."

"Fifth," I answered automatically.

"Ah, no wonder. No classes together. Shame, I would have loved to have such a pretty face to look at during charms."

I was stunned. Pretty? My eyes wandered over the strange boy. He wasn't much taller than me, far shorter than the height of the lanky twins. His skin was dark and gorgeous, matching his golden eyes and puffy afro perfectly. His build was not athletic – far from it, in fact. He was a bit of a chubby boy. I found him incredibly cute.

"Oh. Thanks."

"Were you going to breakfast?" he asked, slowly walking.

"Yes, I'm a tad clumsy sometimes, my fault I fell really. Once I even stepped all over a broken mug and cut my foot really bad. It bled a lot. I was sick that day as well, I think. Not as bad as the time I fell out of a tree though. Although, technically, that one wasn't my fault." I stopped talking, surprised by my sudden bout of rambling. Why did he have to be so cute?

He grinned, showing his perfect teeth.

"You'll have to tell me about it sometime…"

"…Oh! Ella! I'm Ella, my name's Ella."

"Nice to meet you, Ella. I'm Darren," he chuckled.

We were outside the Great Hall. It was full of chatter and laughter and the most amazing smells were drifting out. Not that it fazed me much, I usually contributed in making it. Pride surged through me as I noticed many students inhaling the food. Darren entered the Great Hall, departing with a smile. My eyes followed him as he went and sat down at the table I knew to be for Slytherins.


	16. The Almost Question

16\. The Almost Question

* * *

The twins' orange hair stood out brightly at the long Gryffindor table surrounded by blacks and browns and blondes like seeing embers of fire in the dead of night. Averting my eyes from Darren and the Slytherin table, I kept my head low and followed my feet.

"Oi, what happened to you? Do I need to get a leash?"

I was greeted by George's smirk and Fred's frown. Considering my trepidations for socialising around wizards and witches George seemed completely at ease. I was irked at his blasé attitude but shrugged it off, knowing it was for my own good and that if George showed his apprehensions – if he had any – I would be even more reluctant to progress.

Alicia swatted George and scolded him. In return George grabbed her hand a placed a soft kiss on the back of it, sharing a wink with her as he did.

"Alright, Ella," Angelina welcomed, patting the seat on the bench next to her and offering me a muffin once I'd settled. I peered at the students around the Great Hall and was relieved that no one paid me any mind.

"Cheers," I said, biting into the English muffin, yolk running down my chin. I rubbed it off with the back of my hand before anyone could notice. "How are you?"

"Dead on my feet," Angelina grumbled, "The girls kept me up all night in the commons."

"Why's that? More gossiping or what colour suits who best?"

I got along with all the girls but had a special relationship of sorts with Angelina in that we didn't get excited over the latest scandals, couples or shoes. Ange was more of a sports nut, discussing game tactics and Quidditch players with the boys whereas I was more attentive to my studies and duties. Of course, they weren't always on my mind but recent events had them at the top of my priority list. I was still adjusting to my new environment and needed distractions I was familiar with.

"I wish. Alicia couldn't stop giggling over George and Katie was gushing over the pair of 'em."

My eyes flickered over to them and I was surprised to see Alicia reciprocating the usual one-sided flirtatious behaviour from George.

"Oh, didn't he tell you?" she asked. I shook my head.

"Bad Georgie!" Fred's voice boomed. He was seated on Alicia's other side and had been attempting to confuse her using his twin identity, touching and whispering lowly but obviously gave up when Alicia failed to be fooled by him. "Did he forget to tell you, Princess?"

"He asked 'Leesh to the Ball last night. You'd have thought he would've yelled it across the common room like the lunatic he is, but no, went out for a walk with her and next thing you know she's all giddy and…weird," Angelina explained.

"Surprised he didn't tell you?" Fred asked.

"I was getting around to it," George said, defending himself as a red flush began creeping up his neck.

I smiled at them, ignoring Fred's biting words and the cotton in my throat. "Good for you, George! Finally made a move."

"What d'you mean 'finally'?" Alicia asked, looking between the two of us.

"Nothing for you to worry your head about, Peachy," George replied, squishing her cheeks until she pushed him away.

A long time ago when magic was but a tattered old doll forgotten in the dustiest corner of the cellar, I vaguely remembered Super Mario, the sweet little Italian plumber who dedicated his life to his love. George had jokingly drawn on a fake moustache and sprayed the water hose in the garden at a ferocious dragon called Jimmy to save me from the tree I was stuck on, dressed in dungarees and a pink t-shirt. He never actually saved me though; once he'd passed the fearsome beast he would raise his water hose and splash me until I fell. He was Mario and I was Princess Peach. We played this game several times in the summers, alternating between playing with the Gameboy and roleplaying. It was his way to cheer me up whenever my thoughts drifted to another world.

"Come on Ange, we have to go before we're late." Alicia stood up and pulled her bag on her shoulder with a huff. Many other students were beginning to rise also to get to their first lesson on time.

"Coming," she replied, shovelling a final spoon of porridge into her mouth and following after the blonde with a quick wave over her shoulder.

"Where the bloody hell did Lee get to?" George murmured to himself, looking around the Great Hall for any sign of Lee. "Git wants me to be late."

"I should be going now. I'll see you later, George."

George's head snapped to me and he gathered his bag in his hand and made to stand. "I'll walk you down before-"

"George! Hurry up!" Lee's voice carried through the Great Hall from his position just outside the large doors, his arms wildly waving around himself and almost hitting a few Beauxbatons students in the face.

He was about to shout a response until a twin voice spoke. "Go on, George, I'll walk Ella to the kitchen."

"Are you sure? I don't mind, s'not like I've never been late before," George said, eyeing his twin dubiously like a teacher would do to a student claiming to be ill for the third day in a row.

"I can go by myself, you don't need to go out of your way, I'll be fine," I said, thinking on my feet for a reason not to be alone with Fred.

Fred patted George on the back before lightly shoving him. "Go on. It's almost Christmas break and the last thing we need is for you to be in detention when we have better things to do."

The struggle to decide whether to stay or leave was evident in his expression, but his eyes lingered on his brother for long seconds before he grinned and ran out of the Great Hall. He actually left me with his devil twin. I would have been angry but just then Fred beckoned me to follow him with a kind smile.

I kept my head low as we squeezed through the mass of students exiting the Great Hall. Fred's lithe body was easily moving through the crowd. In fact, the students seemed to be parting for him in an exact replica of the Red Sea parting for Moses. Or Musa, however you liked to call him. Unfortunately I wasn't as rewarding of the same treatment, as people began pushing their way through as soon as Fred had passed, closing the gap and separating us.

A warm hand gripped my own and I looked up meeting twinkling blue eyes.

"Come on, Princess, keep up."

This time as the students split for him Fred quickly pulled me with him and before I knew it we were on the other side. The walk was silent and rather tense. What could I possibly say to someone who hated squibs? I'd heard plenty of stories about the treatment of squibs from witches and wizards, and none of them were in any way pleasant. Not that I thought Fred would stoop so low, not that low. Only few had spoken about some squibs being welcomed with open arms, but that was a rare occasion, one which I was glad to have experienced from Dumbledore.

As surprising as it was for Fred to offer to walk me to the kitchen, his presence was somewhat comforting, if tense, for once. Sure, he may not like me but at least he had the decency to show kindness in my moment of anxiety. Whatever the reason, his parents brought him up well for sure.

"I'm not going out of my way," Fred's voice cut through my thoughts.

"Huh?"

He cast a quick look at me before facing forward again. "Escorting you back to the kitchen; I'm not going out of my way to do it."

"Oh. So…you don't have a lesson now? What about George and Lee?"

"They have herbology right now, the only class George and I aren't in together. Surprised?"

"Um, yeah. I just thought-"

"That we'd pass and fail all the same subjects?" I nodded shyly. He chuckled. "Almost. Passed charms and defence against the dark arts together and then he passed herbology and I passed transfiguration."

My eyes widened. "You two only got three OWLs each?"

"Yup."

I didn't know what else to say. I had thought that the twins would have had far more lessons and OWLs like all their classmates.

"You must have a pretty decent timetable then," I muttered, but Fred heard and laughed, shocking me.

"You could say that. With only three subjects there's a lot of free time to cause havoc," he grinned and I found myself smiling back. "Shame that Filch is catching on though."

My smile slipped, replaced by a frown. "Why do you torment Filch so much?"

"It's fun," Fred shrugged.

I crossed my arms over my chest. "It's cruel. Just because he can't defend himself doesn't give you the right to…to…bully him. Think of how hard it must be for him."

I honestly didn't know why I was defending Filch as much as I was, for I knew he could be a terrible nuisance to the students, provoking them to pull out their wands in a show of supremacy. Hell, he had even done so to me and I had often felt myself itching to get a whack at him. But for a wizard to consciously do that to a defenceless squib…it was bordering on barbaric. And why would he stop at Filch? The power one got from defeating a weak prey could be addictive. Who's to say one day he wouldn't do that to me?

Fred scoffed. "Oh yeah, must be real hard stalking the castle at all hours with a ruddy cat."

"That isn't all he does."

"Oh, do enlighten me on the wondrous efforts of Filch."

"Stop it!"

"I haven't bloody done anything!"

"Leave Filch alone and go bug someone like yourself," I said, unable to think up more reasons for my argument.

"Why don't you stay with people like yourself?"

"Why do you hate squibs so much?" I yelled. His words stung deeply and I almost flinched, recalling words so similar like a repressed memory crawling out of an ancient grave.

He was contemplating with a face of calm. A passer-by would never have thought we were yelling at each other moments prior. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and tickled the pear, pushing the portrait open when the doorknob popped into existence. He held the door open and gestured me forward with a nod of his head.

The house elves had finished clearing the mess from breakfast already and many had already started on the makings of lunch. Dobby was having his break on the armchair, attempting to read my fairy-tale book upside down which I had lent him after finishing it to Bonnie. He was wearing violent odd socks again and a dangerously ugly hat. Fred was still quiet, resuming his stance of insouciance against the wall with his hands in his pockets, staring into the galaxies of nothing.

"Hello, Dobby," I greeted the house elf, angling the book until it was upright between his long emaciated fingers.

"Misses Ella! Thank you! How is your morning?"

I giggled at the over excited creature and perched myself on the arm of his chair. Dobby always had a fine way of cheering me up. "I had a fine morning, thank you, Dobby. Had breakfast up in the Great Hall with all the other students."

He nodded. "Yes, Mister Wheezes say he take you up there."

"George? Is he here?"

"No, Misses Ella, he says it last night," Dobby explained and pointed to the book. "What is this story?"

I peered over his shoulder. "That's Cinderella. The one before it is Beauty and the Beast and the one after is Sleeping Beauty. Have you read any yet?"

His large orbs dimmed in sadness. "No, Dobby cannot. Bonnie read the Beasty story though."

"Oh yeah? And how did you like it?" I asked, smiling in pride at having taught Bonnie to read well enough to read to others.

"It was wonderful!" Dobby grinned, throwing his arms up in the air as he recounted his favourite moments. "And Belle was very nice to Beast, even though he was very, very different to everyone around him. Ooh! Misses Ella! You are beautiful like Belle."

I laughed. "Thank you, Dobby. But I'm sure she was far lovelier. After all, she does turn into a Princess by marrying the Beast."

"But Beast isn't really a beast. He is just like all others underneath."

I smiled affectionately and rubbed his hat as he returned to looking at the pictures in the book. Fred's hand on my shoulder alerted me to his presence.

"I didn't mean it."

"I know."

"I'm sorry," he apologised.

"Me too."

The corner of his lip twitched upwards, showing a hint of a smile. "What are you sorry for? Being right?"

"For yelling. It was out of order. I have a bit of a temper when I'm pissed off enough."

"Noted. Now then," he flopped into the vacant armchair, spreading his arms and legs out, "What's there to eat?"

"You just had breakfast!"

He quirked his eyebrows up and down, one at a time, slow and then fast. "So? I'm a growing man. I need to maintain these bad boys," he flexed his arms.

"Maintain?" I laughed to distract myself from the sudden gentle fluttering of my stomach. Did Angie give me a rotten egg for breakfast?

"Oi! Cheeky cow. I didn't even get to each much up there, not with Georgie and Leesh petting each other."

"From the sounds of it you shouldn't be one to complain," I said, recalling to Angelina's words from the other day.

Fred scoffed. "Not when there's food around I don't."

"So what does Mister Wheezy desire for breakfast?" I asked, gathering random ingredients, tying an apron around my waist and smoothing my hair into a tighter bun.

He jumped off the armchair and stood beside me, nudging my hip with his. "Pancakes?" He asked sweetly, batting his eyes and smiling. It looked creepy rather than innocent.

"Pancakes it is then!" I giggled, covering his face with my hand. He swept his tongue in a long lick across my hand and ran, laughing wildly as I shrieked.

* * *

"Merlin, I haven't had pancakes that good in ages," Fred exclaimed.

Making the pancakes had taken far longer than it should have with Fred there, throwing things at me from across the bench and then pulling my hair out of its bun. He didn't stop until the pancakes were all cooked, many burned. Eating the pancakes was no struggle, for I now came to the conclusion that the Weasley twins were completely identical in terms of their anatomy. Their bottomless pits of stomachs were black holes, forcing in anything edible in sight and then destroying the evidence, leaving no trace of it ever happening.

"I'm glad," I said.

We cleared the mess together, much more calmly now that our stomachs were full.

"Were you actually upset, before?" Fred asked, leaning against the counter as I washed up.

"About what?"

"About George and Alicia."

Was I? Well, yes, of course. "I guess," I shrugged.

"Why?" he asked, his tone genuinely bemused.

I honestly did not know how to answer. So I said nothing. Sometimes silence is the best answer you can offer.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"I know."

"Are you coming to the Ball?"

I shook my head. "No."

"You should," he insisted. "Ella…"

My hazel eyes met his shining blue orbs. I had never imagined this scenario ever playing out. He was going to ask me. Just as we were bordering on friendship. In the few seconds between his words my mind conjured up a million and one thoughts. And I found myself really wanting him to ask me. If I couldn't go with George, surely his twin brother would be the next best thing, especially as we were on good terms. It would be a great excuse to attend the once in a lifetime Ball. I focused on his moving lips and the words his voice carried, willing my mind to stop twisting it into what I wanted to hear.

"You should come. You'll regret it if you don't. I've heard it's supposed to be something special."

Oh. "Oh." Damn. "I'll think about it."

Fred grinned. "Good. And if you chicken out you can expect a visit from a devilishly handsome Weasley twin," he ended with a wink.

Damn. I really wanted to answer that almost question.

* * *

His twinkling blue eyes were the most comforting things in the world to me, in this world. Everything about him was soothing and lovely. His voice, gravelly yet soft; his face wrinkly and youthful; his smirk crinkled and cheeky. I was growing to love this man.

"Ella. How nice to see you again," he smiled as I entered the loud spherical room and perched myself in the usual armchair.

"Dumbledore," I nodded in greeting.

"How is everything? Well, I hope."

"Yes, everything is fine."

"I heard you are excelling in care of magical creatures. I must say I'm very pleased you are acquainting yourself so well with the creatures from our world."

Our. He said our world. I was a part of this world, of his world.

"Thank you," I chuckled nervously.

He peered over his moon spectacles, his marvellous cerulean eyes shining, knowing. "Is there something you wish to discuss, Ella dear?"

I shook my head. "No, no. Just thought I'd come and see you." My leg bobbed up and down and I scratched the skin beside the nail on my thumb; my nervous twitches.

Dumbledore's gaze was firm and solid. "I was just…wondering if perhaps…if it was permissible for me to…perhaps I could- can I go to the Yule Ball? Not that I've decided to go or anything but I'm still thinking about it and if I need to decide on the spot I'll need to know then and there."

He leaned back in his chair and smiled. Fawkes squawked from his pole, his wings flailing before relaxing, his magnificent red feathers glowing. "I do not see a reason as to why you are not to attend. I have noticed your ever growing friendship with the Weasley twins. I expected this, of course, with all their kitchen rendezvous'." He winked. "By all means feel free to attend the Yule Ball. Everyone is invited, after all. It would be a shame for you to miss it."

I chuckled in relief. "Why am I always so nervous when I come to you?"

"My dear, know this: whatever fear burns at you, whatever worries cloud your thoughts, whatever achievement you wish to pride yourself in, remember that there will always be someone there to hear you, hold you. I hope I can be this person for you, Ella. Now then, onto the business of your outfit. I assume you will not be wanting to wear the traditional dress robes, rather a dress? And we mustn't forget your date…after all, I have noticed your growing relationship with the Weasley twins and a certain Mr Jordan…"


	17. Where the Lines Overlap

17\. The Question

* * *

It was almost the end of term and the influx of pranks only added to the atmosphere. It was a miracle the twins hadn't been caught – for everyone knew the culprits after spending five years with them – but Angelina assured me that with their knowledge of the castle that surpassed every senior member (besides Dumbledore) and their cunning, it would be a long time until they got caught unless they purposely allowed themselves to be – fat chance of that happening in a million years.

Angelina had come to the kitchen one night, inviting me to the common room. She informed me that Fred and George were out causing havoc most likely, and that Katie forced Lee to go to the hospital wing to get his flu cured. With the absence of the Troublesome Trio, she suggested we have some girl time. I found myself rather excited to be with just the girls for a while; surrounding myself with Weasley and Jordan testosterone and house elves all the time was taking its toll and I desperately craved female company.

And with no Fred meant that I could relax and not worry about my queer desperation to be asked to the ball by him. I still couldn't fathom why I had the urge to go with him; all night my mind was restless as if Fred was physically in my head, keeping me up with the disturbance of his behaviour.

We were settled by the window in the bustling common room, busier and more cramped than I had ever seen it with students loafing about and rushing on homework. Alicia was waiting for us, scribbling away on a long piece of parchment excitedly before greeting us and packing it away neatly.

"Dinner was divine yet again, Ella!" Alicia gushed. "I think I've gained twice my body weight these past few months alone." Once the group had found out I helped in making the meals they never failed to complement each and every dish. It was amusing, the forced affection one would give just to show inclusion of an anomaly.

"If they didn't cancel Quidditch that wouldn't be such a problem, Leesh," Angelina grumbled. It was apparent that the lack of Quidditch was affecting her far too much – no one else complained as much, although the twins did manage to moan about it and not being old enough to enter the Triwizard tournament.

"Doesn't stop you though, does it?"

"We need to keep in shape and practice for next year! No way will I have everyone slacking and dropping our game. We will win," Angelina said defensively.

I chuckled at them.

"What was that you were working on Alicia?" I asked, breaking the one-sided heated conversation between the girls.

"Oh, just some extra arithmancy work I thought I'd start on."

At the mention of the subject Angelina groaned and leaned back against the window, tipping her head back until it knocked on the glass. "Please, no more school talk. My brain hurts from seeing Snape's face today."

"Was he being extra arse-y today?" I asked.

"He's always extra arse-y, with a great, big- ugh, no that sounds gross," Alicia scrunched up her nose.

"Jealous of Snape's arse, Leesh?" Angelina laughed.

The blonde's face paled and she shook her head stiffly over and over.

"She's jealous of your arse, Ange, she just won't admit it," I grinned. Angelina stood up and sashayed in front of us, wiggling her bum every few steps to our laughter. A cat call whistled across the room and we all laughed as Angelina wiggled her two fingers in the air in a general direction.

"I'm not even going to attempt to deny that! Angelina has the most enviable derriere in the entire school," Alicia giggled, her words completely serious.

"Gotta thank my African heritage for that," Angelina said, sitting back down after a final waggle.

"Where are you from, Ella? You look…I don't know…exotically British, I guess." Alicia asked, inspecting my features.

"I'm actually a quarter Indian but it's hardly noticeable," I answered. My skin wasn't as pale as Alicia's or Katie's, I had often been described as having a light olive skin tone (whatever that was) and my only feature that was evidently Asian was my hair and eyebrows; my hair was thick and a rich brown which looked almost a deep red in the sun and my bold, bushy eyebrows were arched almost perfectly.

"Wow," Angelina said in awe. "No wonder your hair's so gorgeous."

"It's really not," I giggled nervously. The only thing I truly appreciated about my hair was the colour. It was too thick to look after and always got in my face, even when it was tied back, which made me glad I didn't have curly hair – that would have been a nightmare.

"I would kill for your hair," Alicia said, staring disdainfully at the shiny locks her fingers were twirling.

Angelina rolled her eyes. "Alicia is that girl who's incredibly smart but stupid when it comes to herself-"

"Hey!"

"-she doesn't know how bloody hot she is and never notices boys looking at her. She doesn't realise how truly blessed she is but she doesn't hate herself either. I've said it time and time again: if I were a boy I would so shag her."

Alicia blushed furiously and she covered her face with trembling hands. "Ange, if you weren't you I'd so hex you right now."

"And what if I was Georgie?" Angelina asked teasingly, sending me a wink before Alicia looked up.

"Then…then I'd…ugh! I hate you," Alicia grumbled, slouching in her seat.

"How long have you liked him?" I asked through the small smile I could manage.

"I never said I liked him!"

"Alicia, please. Shut up and answer the question. We're not idiots," Angelina said, watching the blonde closely. The portrait door swung open and the twins scrambled in, muttering to each other. Without a second glance they sat with a group of younger students by the fireplace, with one boy with shaggy bright red hair just like theirs and another with messy ebony hair.

"That sentence was the biggest juxtaposition I've ever heard." Angelina sent Alicia a deathly glare. The blonde turned her green eyes to the devious duo and a smile grew on her lips. "A year maybe? I don't really know, it just started creeping up on me and one day during breakfast, I just knew," she spoke softly.

"After all his flirting I'm just surprised it's only taken you two now to get a move on," Angelina said.

Alicia blushed and twiddled with her fingers. "Actually, he told me he'd been planning it since the announcement of the ball. Said he didn't want to waste any chances and risk me going with someone else if he blew it."

Angelina's eyes were wide with shock. "Seriously? He said all that? George _Weasley?!_ Who knew he could be such a romantic." Honestly, even I was shocked. I knew George had strong feelings for the girl but even I didn't think that with his mischievous personality he could manage to plot and wait for the perfect moment to act out a grand gesture of romance.

"Now all we have to see is if Fred's the same." My eyes flitted over to the twins to see Fred declaring something to the red headed boy. His brother, surely – they looked far too alike not to be.

"Hey," I called the girls, keeping my gaze fixed on the boys, "Is that Harry Potter?"

"You don't know?" Angelina asked, then clasped her eyes shut and apologised for her stupidity. "Yes, that's him, and Ron, Fred and George's younger brother."

Seeing him this close I could make out his features a lot better than when I had witnessed him in the First Task. I could see his piercing green eyes through his round glasses and his shaggy black hair unkempt, as if he had just rolled out of bed. Despite the rumours and tales running about him for years, he didn't stand out at all. I wasn't sure what I was been expecting; perhaps a shift in the air from his presence, an aura attracting me to him, a gut feeling pulling my eyes in his direction as if knowing there was a rare being in the room who was a living miracle. But there was nothing.

"Who d'you reckon he'll go with?" Angelina asked almost conspiringly, moving in closer to us.

"Oi! Angelina!"

We all looked over to see the twins and the younger boys staring at us.

"What?" she called back, huffing at being interrupted.

"Want to come to the Ball with me?" Fred yelled, a smirk playing on the corner of his lip, baring a tiny portion of his straight white teeth and an eyebrow uplifted, as if daring her to reject him.

Angelina gave Fred an appraising sort of look.

"All right, then," she said, and she turned away from him, with a bit of a grin on her face.

Fred's eyes met mine for all of two seconds, his face smug, and then he looked away to his brother.

"Well, now we know Fred isn't the romantic sort," Alicia giggled. "Angelina! What about Francis?"

"That git? I did what you said and went to ask him, but he saw me coming and cuddled up to some Slytherin and I heard him ask her."

"No!" Alicia gasped.

Angelina smirked. "Doesn't matter. I know for certain that Fred will have something planned for him; he ruined one of his pranks the other day and Fred is dying to get one back at him."

"Oh, Ella you have to come!" Alicia's voice pulled me out of my haze and I blinked at her.

"What?"

"The Ball. Term ends this week, we can all go Hogsmeade and get dress robes."

The end of term was this week. Meaning I would be on my way to Ottery this weekend. I suddenly felt overwhelmed. By the large castle, the Gryffindors, catching up on five years of school work, George, Fred…it had all been creeping up on me and only now was I feeling the crumbling of my resolve from the pressure. I needed to be home.

But maybe home is nothing but two arms holding you tight when your world is falling apart.

It puzzled me, why I was so affected by Fred asking Angelina. We were becoming friends- no, acquaintances. I refused to call us friends just yet. The simple noun was often easily used and abused. The actual definition of friend: a person that you know well and like. I didn't know Fred well at all, aside from the stories I'd heard from George and the interactions between us. But he was never consistent; what was I to make of that? Did I like him? In the moments he was kind, yes, of course. He had the ability to be really wonderful.

Alicia's insistence on me coming to the Ball was also baffling. All of them had dates and I would be the, what- seventh wheeler? What was it called when all six friends were going with each other? Do you only count one of each pair, which I would then be the fourth wheeler? It would be awkward for me. And I wouldn't want to be sitting alone while everyone else was dancing together, my lonesome begging for unwanted attention. What was the point?

As I was leaving not long after, Fred and George pulled me over to them, causing me to fall on one of their laps. I jumped up immediately and was formally introduced to Harry Potter and Ron, both whom were eyeing me up strangely. It would have been a pleasant meeting had I not rushed off seconds after, claiming I had a meeting with Hagrid over some work I was having trouble with. I didn't want to lie but the continuous chatter over the bloody ball was driving me nuts. But it wasn't just them, everyone I walked past were in similar conversations and I was close to yanking my hair out and screaming.

The hallways were quieter the closer to the Entrance Hall I got, and eventually the students petered out until I was alone on my way to the kitchen. I distracted myself from my thoughts that filled the sudden void of silence with Hagrid. He had been feeling rather agitated since his interview with Rita Skeeter but diverted his attention to his wonderful and weird creatures. And those horrible rock cakes his hut was now over flowing with. During one of his unfocused ramblings he had informed me that he was helping out with all of the tasks from the Triwizard tournament, and that magical creatures were to be present in every one. I had asked him whether they started off with the easiest and were going to get harder – "What could possibly be more dangerous than dragons!" – But he reassured me that that was not the case. And then offered me a rock cake to which I hesitantly denied.

I often helped him tend to the Blast Ended-Skrewts that the students were feeding and looking after. The first few times I got too lax with them my arm almost got singed, but with a few tips and pointers from Hagrid it became simple. He had even complemented me with his booming voice and engulfed me in one of his giant bear hugs that left me raring to have my feet on the ground again, comparing to an ex-student of his who now had a career with dragons. How amazing to work with such beautiful deadly creatures! The more I thought about it the more I imagined myself in the future: wearing wonderful leather boots and clothes tattered and ripped from the strength of the beasts, stroking and feeding and taming the animals. It was a beautiful dream.

Turning the corner to the hallway where the portrait of the fruit bowl was I collided into a large body.

"What a lovely surprise to see you here."

Sweet golden eyes, almost like honey.

"Darren! Hi," I said, my voice turning high and squeaky from the interruption.

"Hello, Ella," he smiled. "What are you doing here? Long way down from Gryffindor."

"Oh, umm…just popping into the kitchen for a bit. Got a bit peckish," I let out a nervous giggle. Did he even know about the kitchen? Dumbledore really must stop being so lenient. "What about you? This isn't the way to the Slytherin common room if my memory serves me right."

"I'm waiting for someone from Hufflepuff, actually," he replied.

My eyes widened slightly. "Wow. That's…different."

Darren chuckled. "A Slytherin friends with a Hufflepuff? I know."

"It's a good different," I nodded.

"How did you find out about the kitchen?" he asked.

"The twins," I answered automatically. It just seemed plausible that any illicit activity could be linked back to the twins.

"Ah," he nodded in understanding. "Should've known the Weasley boys would have discovered this."

I didn't bother asking how he came to know about it.

"You get along with the twins?"

"Never really spoke to them before, but I have had the pleasure of being the butt of their pranks once or twice," he answered.

"Those idiots. I would offer to stop them but…"

"It's fine, I understand how those boys don't listen to anyone, least of all their mum. Poor woman," he muttered solemnly, and made a face, as if recalling a particularly sour incident.

"Care to join me in the kitchen while you wait?" I offered. Surely his company would keep me occupied, and it would be nice to make a new friend on my own. So far all the Gryffindors I'd befriended was down to George, not that I was ungrateful.

"Sure," he agreed and tickled the pear, holding the door open for me.

"You hungry?" I asked, manoeuvring around the house elves and starting on a sandwich.

"No thanks," he called out, seating himself by the fire. "I've started on a diet."

I almost dropped my peanut butter coated knife. "What? Why?"

"Have you seen the size of me?" he chuckled, his hand flying over his abdomen in a sweeping gesture.

I sat down with my sandwich, leaving the ingredients out for the elves to store away. "You're not that big, Darren. I don't see why you need to lose weight."

"Says skinny girl."

"Oi! I'm not that skinny."

"Alright, whatever you say pretty girl." I rolled my eyes at the use of the endearment and took a large bite to hide the smile inching across my face.

"I need to get a date for the ball," he admitted.

The topic of conversation would have made me run to the sanctuary of my dorm – hell, I would have been willing to jump off the astronomy tower were it not for the embarrassed flush creeping onto his cheeks. God, I couldn't wait for this bloody ball to be over with.

"Have you asked someone?"

Darren shook his head, his eyes staring deep into the flickering fire. "I tried. One girl. Didn't react exactly how I wanted," he sneered. "Anyway, I've been on this diet since summer and I'm determined to keep at it."

"Well then," I put my plate on the floor, rubbed my hands free of crumbs and leaned forward, forcing him to meet my eyes. "That girl was a super bitch to turn you down."

He grinned and sat back. "Words sweet and musical to my ears."

"A cow like that doesn't deserve to go with you. You're an amazing guy," I said.

He sat still for a few moments, his face concentrated in thought. "Would you go with me?"

My eyes enlarged, mimicking the physiognomy of a fearful house elf and my mouth hung open. "Wha- what?"

Darren fidgeted with his hands, the only sign of his discomfort. "Would you like to come with me to the Ball?"

There was a war raging in my head, but rather than a mind-blowing world war, it was more of a Cold War, where all the conflict is secret and hidden in the shadows. It's not like I didn't want to go with him, I just never let it cross my mind. I hadn't even considered him, the only boys on my mind being Fred and George. And they were off limits now. Darren was the complete opposite of what Slytherins were portrayed to be; what most of them were. He was kind to me even though he thought I was a Gryffindor, his house nemesis. In his eyes, we were to never engage with each other, other than to torment. And with my experience with Slytherins, he was a blissful anomaly in the attributes of his house peers – like me. What was there not to like about him?

"Have you already agreed to go with someone else?" he questioned suddenly.

I could have kissed him for even thinking I had already been asked.

"No, I haven't. But I'd love to go with you."

It was his turn to go wide eyed and slack jawed on me. "You what?"

"I said, I'd love to go with you, Darren," I repeated, grinning at him.

"Ok," he breathed in astonishment and relief, "great! That's…great!"

I laughed. "Good."

We sat in awkward silence for a while, and just as I opened my mouth Darren jumped out of his seat.

"Damn! I forgot Hufflepuff! Sorry, Ella, I have to go, I'll see you around!"

I laughed as he ran out the kitchen, almost tripping over his robe as he went.

The next morning I was dragged to the Great Hall again for breakfast, but this time both the twins had the morning free, and after filling our stomachs on eggs and toast and biscuits, we took a stroll around the Black Lake.

My hands were stuffed into the pockets of my large coat, my scarf covering half of my face and a woollen hat devouring my head, leaving only my eyes visible.

"How can you breathe with all that?" Fred asked, eyeing up my attire.

My response was muffled through my scarf and Fred scrunched his face at me even more. He had been gracious to me all morning, despite the odd biting comment in regards to the topic of conversation – something I was sure would take him a while to stop – so I was determined to be so as well; no awkwardness. George chuckled, throwing an arm around my shoulders. "Didn't ya know Fred? Our Ella here doesn't need to breathe; she's not a human!"

I shrugged his arm off and cursed him.

"What was that smelly Ellie?!" George yelled into my ear, making me cringe away from him and closer to Fred. "I couldn't hear you Mistress Alien!"

Fred seized my arm and pulled me behind him. "Stay back, Princess! I shall save you from this ugly, horribly disfigured, mangled beast!" Fred brandished his wand and threw a jinx which his brother deflected, throwing his own back.

"Oi! We're twins, you git!" George dodged another jinx and duelled his twin in the snow, their noses as red as their hair from the frosty chill and their laughter filling the air with Weasley warmth.

"I'm the good looking one though, darling George."

"I think the white snow is blinding your eyes brother."

"No, no, I can assure you that it's your face hurting my eyes."

"Better than seeing your ugly mug every morning and night."

"You give me nightmares."

"Lee has to push you over to stop you from snoring!"

"Lee has to cover your body because you strip in your sleep!"

"Well, Lee-"

"Boys!" The two stopped duelling but left their wands poised towards each other. "Enough. You're both butt ugly."

They looked at each other, dropped their wands, and silently resumed their positions on either side of me.

"Ella-"

"-do you really find our hotness so unappealing?"

"Why, we are-"

"-wounded, love! This blasphemy-"

"-must be sanctioned."

"Blasphemy?" I laughed, having moved my scarf lower down to free my mouth. "I hardly believe-"

"ATTACK!" Fred shouted next to my ear, eliciting a shriek from me. In an instant the boys had their arms around me and we flopped to the floor. One twin pulled my hat off and rubbed their knuckles against my head while the other unzipped my coat and tickled my ribs. I was roaring in laughter and pain as my body writhed under them but otherwise I couldn't move; Fred was straddling my legs and George was leaning over me.

"AH! Yo…you…STOP! Y…you g-g…GITS!" I shrieked though laughter and tears.

"Apologise!" George yelled.

I shook my head, too weak to formulate words. Fred removed his fingers first but kept them hovering over my ribs, and he called for George, making him stop his assault as well. They grinned down at me as my laughter died down and my erratic heartbeat returned to normal with the occasional hard thump.

"Now are you ready to apologise?" Fred asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

I found myself grinning back at him. I leaned in close – as close as I could with his weight still heavy on my abdomen – and whispered, "I will when you get your face transfigured, ugly."

His blue eyes narrowed. "As you wish," he responded, and with a war cry he began again.

The attack lasted longer than before, and I grudgingly apologised through my aching ribs and numb head. We stood up again, Fred zipping back my coat and George slamming my snow filled hat on my head.

"Cheers, guys," I muttered, glaring at them as they chortled.

"Yer welcome, love!" George grinned.

Each twin hooked an arm through mine and we resumed walking, the boys in a deeply confusing conversation with open sentences and missing words.

"Ella, we're having an end of term party in Gryffindor this weekend, so make sure you're free," George said.

"Yeah, last thing we need is for you to be double booked with the Gryffindor party and the house elf party," Fred winked.

"Actually, I won't be able to make it. Sorry."

"Please don't tell us you've already agreed to the house elves," George whined.

"If you have, we'll have words with Dobby, don't you worry."

I chuckled. "No, it's not that. I'm actually going away for a bit."

The boys stopped walking. "What? Where?" they asked simultaneously.

I grinned up at them "Home. I'm going Ottery."

"Seriously?" George asked, beaming himself.

"Why?" Fred frowned.

"I really miss Zoe and Nate, so Dumbledore thought it'd be nice to visit them before Christmas."

"But what will you say? You've been gone all this time, they're going to be curious."

"Don't worry, Dumbledore and I worked something out. I'll be fine, I know what I have to say." I explained. "I just hope they've come back home for the holidays," I thought to myself, remembering they had gone to university in different cities.

"You'll be back for the ball though, won't you?" Fred asked, slowly beginning our walk again, this time back to the castle.

"Alicia's bugging me to make sure you do come," George said.

"Yes, I'll be back by then." I had thought about the right time to tell the boys about my date, and as it was the current talking point… "I wouldn't want to disappoint my date by not attending."

They stopped again, the sudden halt pulling me back. "What date?" they asked.

"I met a boy the other day- Darren. He asked me…and I said yes," I clarified.

"Wait-"

"Darren?"

"The Slytherin?"

"Yes…why?" I frowned at their scowls.

"Why are you going with him?"

"How did you even meet him?"

"You're not bloody going with him."

"Now, hang on! I met him when you guys left me on the way to the Great Hall, my first time there with everyone. And I'm going with him because he's the only one who's asked me and he's a really nice bloke."

Fred scoffed. "Yeah, _real_ nice bloke. He's a Slytherin_!_"

"So what? Have you ever spoken to him?"

"Why would I want to consort with his lot?"

"Oh, is the brave little Gryffindor afraid of another house?" I mocked.

"Piss off! It's not just any house. He's a _Slytherin_!"

"Stop being so judgmental. So was my father!" I yelled.

"And look how he turned out! Look at you now!"

We were all breathing heavily, our breaths foggy in the air between us. My numb lips were trembling and my fists were shaking, and I was sure that it wasn't the wind that was making my vision blur.

"Ella, I'll go with you," George said stiffly.

"No. You've been mad for Alicia for ages now, it's not fair for you to take me as a last resort," I snapped.

He groaned. "Ella, I'm sorry! I'm sorry I didn't think of you-"

"Well that's bleeding obvious, isn't it?"

"Ella-"

"No!" I shouted, and then sagged. "Just, no more. I'm going in now, and I'm going to the ball with Darren. I don't want to see either of you," I sent them both a pointed glare, "until you apologise."

I turned on my feet and without glancing back once, trekked alone to the castle with only the falling snow to accompany me.


	18. My Home My Family

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18\. Home

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The week was almost over. I had waited days for the boys to come and apologise for their callous response but to no avail. Lee had come to visit me several times, claiming to know nothing for the reason of my not being present with them during meals or in the common room anymore, and that the twins were not telling him anything. I had to explain everything to him over a cup of tea, and I was surprised to see him almost cringe when I told him of Darren. His reaction was not as explosive as the twins', but he certainly was not happy.

"He's my – well, sort of my cousin, I guess. Never really got on with him; the whole pureblood mind-set pushed our families apart. Actually, I think he's my second cousin on my mum's uncle's nieces…"

You could imagine my shock upon hearing that.

"He seems nice. He thought I was a Gryffindor and still asked me to the ball. That doesn't seem much of pureblood-Slytherin mentality," I replied, sure that Lee had been informed of _something_ by the twins and was now aiding them in presenting Darren in a bad light.

"Well, I guess not…" Lee trailed off. "But he's still bad news. My parents wouldn't keep me away from him if he wasn't."

"Your parents kept you away because of his parents, not him," I reasoned.

"Ella, just…you're still going to go with him, aren't you?"

I nodded.

Lee heaved a great sigh and pushed his dreadlocks back from his face. "Just be careful then."

His voice was ominous and worrying. But he was still with me.

The girls didn't come either, although Lee had mentioned that Angelina was curious as to my sudden disappearance and was hounding on the twins viciously, knowing that whatever had happened was down to them. But why she didn't visit, I hadn't a clue.

The corridors were dark and dreary, the wind howling against the castle walls chilling me through all my layers. It was the first time I had gone on one of my midnight walks on my own in a long time, and a feeling of suspicion and apprehension overcame me. I put it down to the shadows flickering in all corners and the winter darkness, something I had always feared, but now coming back in full force. I wrapped by arms around my chest during a particularly powerful gust of wind and almost toppled over, leaning up against a cold stone wall to stay upright. Even my thick and heavy clothes weren't strong enough to combat the chill.

My bags were all packed. It was definite: I would be leaving for Ottery St. Catchpole tomorrow. Dumbledore told me to go to his office at any time during the day and I would Floo to my home. I had hoped that the boys would have apologised to me by now so that I could say my goodbyes. Maybe I was being a bit too harsh on them. After all, they were just looking out for me. Perhaps I should go and see them…

No. They were the ones being stereotypical and rude, completely ignoring me until the last minute. I had every right to be the one waiting for them.

Before I knew it, it was Friday.

I had decided to wait all morning to see if the boys would come, spending my entire day in the kitchen, but they never did. I stood in Dumbledore's office with only two bags full of clothes I'd need. I had a spare packed away for presents – if I'd decided to buy them any.

"Will you be returning in time for the ball, Ella?" Dumbledore asked.

I nodded my head at him and smiled. "Yes, I will be. The day before I'll be back."

Dumbledore nodded and passed me the bowl with Floo powder. "I assure you, everything will be fine. You have fine friends back home who will most certainly look after you and will be most pleased to see you again," Dumbledore reassured me, noticing my hesitance to move.

I nodded again and tightened the straps of my bags around my shoulders, and with a shaky hand, grabbed the powder and dropped it. I swirled away in green flames, grinning back at Dumbledore's smile and Fawkes's cry.

I tumbled out of the fireplace into the dark dusty living room. I looked around, noticing the exact familiarity of the building with everything in its place. A sad smile grew on my lips, seeing the empty armchairs side by side. Slowly, I observed the little house, every little corner and cobweb, before throwing my bags on my old bed, watching it sink under the weight. I was desperate to go over to Mrs Brimble's, to see Philip and Zoe and all her other brothers, to see Imogen and her baby.

But first, I needed to assess the shop.

The streets were full of bustling people shopping for presents. The market had a radio blasting out Christmas songs at full volume, but it still didn't cover the joyful conversing and laughter of the shoppers. Standing on the pavement, my hat and scarf covering most of my face, I noticed Mrs Pike across the road, reading the description of phones through a shop window. I saw Mr Dicks and Mr Babbington at their stall, rushing to get everyone their orders with grins. Imogen's husband was dancing with a lumpy bundle in his arms by the sweet shop, twirling and sashaying in circles.

The festivity of the street made me smile and I strolled over to the shop next door. The light was on inside, filled with decorations and some light music of its own with a few customers gently observing the shelves. I pushed open the door and walked in, the jingle of a bell alerting my presence.

The shop was colourful and bright with tinsel and paper chains and models of miniature reindeers sitting on shelves. I laughed lightly, seeing a gap where the lenticular cards had been. The Christmas song was familiar and old, something by Wham, I believe.

"Good afternoon! Freezing cold out today. Would you care for any assistance, ma'am?"

The voice stopped me in my movements. I pulled my hat off but kept my back to her.

"I don't know, can you help me look for an incredibly pretty girl, overly tall, insanely thin with massive breasts by the name of Zoe?" I asked teasingly, turning around and grinning at the girl in question.

Her sharp blue eyes widened and she squealed.

"ELLA!" Zoe charged forward and grappled me in an exhausting hug, almost pushing me into a customer. "How the hell have you been? I've missed you so much!" She paused her excited ramblings and pulled away from me, punching her fist into my shoulder.

"Ow! Bloody hell, Zo, what was that for? I see you after months only for you to abuse me!"

"Where have you been?!" she asked, hands on hips. "I come home the other day to find out from mum that you disappeared one night. Without even a note! You could have died!" Zoe exclaimed. She pinched her eyes shut and then greeted me with a warm smile. "I'm glad you're back."

I laughed and pulled her into another hug. "I missed you too, Zo."

"Oi! What's going on here?"

I retracted my arms from Zoe and flung myself at Nate.

"Ella! Hi!" he laughed.

"Hello, Nate," I giggled.

"What are you-?"

"I think we should discuss this during our break," Zoe interrupted. "You go off into the back Ella, we'll finish up here."

With a gentle shove, she pushed me behind the counter and into the little back room before leaving. I put on the kettle and unwound my scarf from around my neck, throwing it on a chair as I made three cups of tea.

Zoe and Nate entered the room a few minutes later and settled themselves on the chairs.

"We've closed for the day, now. God, that was tiring," Zoe huffed.

"It wasn't as bad as yesterday," Nate replied, quirking an eyebrow.

"That's because Moira was here yesterday," Zoe said.

"Who's Moira?" I asked.

Zoe grinned and answered while Nate flushed and gulped down his tea. "Nate's girlfriend."

"She is not my girlfriend!"

We giggled. "Well why did she come back to Devon with you all the way from Nottingham?"

"Because she wanted to meet you, duh. And mum; said she wanted to ask her some stuff because she studied French as well."

"Uhuh, sure."

"So, Ella," Nate said, "care to tell us where the hell you've been these past few months?"

They both turned to face me with worried or confused expressions, suddenly serious.

I cleared my throat. "Have you heard about Bill?"

"Yeah, we heard," Nate nodded solemnly.

"Ella, we're so sorry! Mum emailed me during term and broke the news to me. You must have been so lonely," Zoe grabbed my hands across the table.

I lowered my eyes, avoiding their sombre faces. I didn't dwell too much on Bill's death and I wasn't going to return to that misery again. "Yeah, well, a relative of his turned up from Scotland and it turns out he's my guardian. We moved up to Scotland straight away. I guess I was in shock at the time, so when he asked me if I wanted him to tell anyone about us going I didn't say anything."

"You've been in Scotland all this time!" Zoe cried. "God, it must be freezing up there."

Nate and I laughed at where her mind was focused. "Zoe, I'm sure she has a nice warm house to live in."

The two bantered some more and we laughed. "I really missed you guys," I said, breaking the joyful scene.

They both smiled back. "Group hug!" Zoe yelled, and gathered us in her long toned arms over the table. It was an uncomfortable hug, our bellies pushed up against the edge of the table and our arms around each other's necks.

Maybe home is nothing but a pair of arms holding you when your world is falling apart.

After our chat in the back of the paper shop we returned to my house. For once, there was no food in the house, so we travelled to Mrs Brimble's, where I was engulfed in another crushing hug and smacked by several boys, and ate there. We settled on the sofa and caught up on everything we'd missed. My stories were greatly morphed, for I couldn't tell them that I was in a school for wizards and witches, helping house elves and studying about previously thought mythical creatures.

Someone yelled behind us and Nate sighed. "I must bid you good day ladies, for the mighty plonker Matt is in need of my assistance," he said. Nate hugged me and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek, repeating the actions with Zoe.

"'Ey, how long are back for Ella?" He yelled, walking backwards away from us.

"I'm leaving Friday afternoon."

"Cool! I'll see you guys tomorrow then!" And with that, he turned on his heel and slapped his hand against another boys, walking in the opposite direction from us.

The wind blew harshly and we decided to go to Mrs Brimble's for the night.

The days passed on like this, and soon enough it was like I had never left. Zoe's younger brother Philip was always clinging on to me, crying at the thought of me having to leave at the end of the week. Zoe always grumbled at him, moaning about how he never showed his sister any of the compassion he showed me. He always blew a raspberry at her in response.

Strolling through the town brought unbidden memories to surface. Memories of Nanny Anne, Bill, Jimmy, Zoe and Nate, and George. Every little corner I could link to someone. But the person that most often came into mind was George. He was everywhere. He was on the tree, our little playground of adventures; he was at Imogen's Bakery with me, stealing my cupcake and then demolishing his own; he was at the fruit stall with me, one day finally coming to his senses and trying a red apple. Wherever I went in Ottery St. Catchpole George was there.

I always mentally scolded myself for thinking of him. I had thought that this trip would give me an escape from that world, from them. And then I realised, one day at home when I was dusting the rooms, George was a part of _my _life. He was always there for me, with whatever I was going through. Even Zoe and Nate couldn't always be there to rely on; they were muggles with no knowledge of the magical world but in fantasy.

And with thoughts of George, came thoughts of Fred. And my body couldn't deal with all the emotions from the memories of a few meetings with him over the past few months. It was shocking, the influence he had on my traitorous body.

It was Wednesday when I informed Zoe of a Christmas Ball over breakfast, saying how I would need a dress to wear. In typical Zoe fashion, she squealed and shrieked and dragged me out to the stores almost instantly. I never did get to finish that sausage.

Ottery wasn't known for its retail. In fact, there were hardly any clothes stores, let alone ones for fancy occasions. But Zoe managed to find them easily and we spent hours upon hours searching. I wasn't very fussy when it came to choosing a suitable dress. All I really wanted was something modest and comfortable. Dresses weren't my thing. But Zoe wouldn't have this. No, the dresses I tried on were either a shade too dark, or too light, too puffy or a smidge too tight. She kept muttering about glitter and jewels and _high heels! _It was madness. I was close to calling it quits.

We walked outside another store and shivered.

"I can't believe you didn't choose to buy the green one! It was gorgeous," Zoe gushed, her hands flying around her.

"Zoe it was far too short," I laughed, knowing there was no such thing as too short to Zoe.

"We could have asked the guy to adjust it. They do that, you know."

I rolled my eyes at her smugness. "Yes, Zoe, I am very much aware of that. I just…didn't like it," I said. The dress had been a gorgeous forest green with few diamantes dotted around it. The sleeves weren't so bad, reaching just above my elbows and not puffy at all. If it had been a floor length gown, or even reached my knees I would have bought it in a second, but it hardly covered my butt and the back was itchy. The green reminded me of Slytherin, and I didn't think it would be wise to wear a colour like that if the twins were to make an apology. In fact, they'd probably take one look at me and turn away, accuse me of being a traitor and have it in their minds that I agreed to sell my life and soul to Darren.

"At least I'm sorted for until the next holidays," Zoe grinned. She had brought herself a few dresses for the parties to come at her university in London. She had masses already but she couldn't resist herself when she saw the new dresses on sale.

"I think you're sorted for the rest of your life," I muttered.

"Bloody hell, why's it so cold? I'm going to head back home. You comin'?" she asked, emphasising her mood by rubbing her arms with great force.

I shook my head. "Nah, I think I'll stay out for a bit longer."

"Alrighty then, I'll tell mum. Don't stay out too late young lady!"

I exhaled a deep breath when she was out of sight, glad to finally have a moment to myself. I decided to visit the old charity shop across the paper shop. It was surprisingly large for a charity store and many of Ottery's residents didn't even go there but we always donated towards it, enabling it to extend.

There were mainly books in the shop, but the further in you delved the more magical mysteries you would uncover. One time I had discovered an old letter that had been forgotten at the bottom of a tin box. The ink was pale and neat, and I could just make out the outline of a love note from someone in the war. I wasn't sure which war, but it was one of the big world wars. It was a deeply touching letter, so much so that I never got rid of it; I used it as a book mark, seeing as it was already heavily folded over and over again into a thin strip.

I went passed the store front and up the winding stairs where all the odd knick-knacks were hidden. And that was where I saw it: a beautiful ivory dress. It was modest, just like I had wanted, with the chiffon fabric flowing down to the floor. The neckline was what Zoe had described to me as being an A-line cowl and the back of the dress was open and met again at the middle of my back. The slit on the side was barely noticeable.

It was simple. And perfect. I smiled as I traced the gown with my fingers and fumbled with the tag, turning it over in my fingers. My eyes bulged at the price. It wasn't cheap for a high market store let alone a charity shop! Mentally I calculated all I had saved up from my work at Hogwarts and from working at the paper shop. I sighed, realising I had nowhere near enough. I left the charity shop empty handed and headed to Mrs Brimble's.

I spent my last free day at home, steeling myself to do something I had never dared attempt before. Nanny Anne and Bill's room was neat and coated in layer upon layer of dust. Tears came to my eyes smelling the familiar combination of Nanny Anne's sweet scent and Bill's musky man smell. I brushed my hands against my eyes before rubbing my hands together and opening the drawers.

The house was silent as I sorted through the clothes, organising them in piles of the style and sex. I bagged a few garments for myself: a few cosy jumpers of Bill's and some of Nanny's comfortable socks. I had to force myself to go through their underwear. I didn't keep any of them for myself.

Going through their things felt like something I needed to do myself. Really, it was a way for me to interact with the nostalgia of their lives one last time. Each object and article of clothing had a story which I eagerly reminisced immediately, as if they were there all along, just waiting to be summoned. I felt young again, back as a child, exploring the house and its inhabitants while they were out. Any second they would come back and laugh at the organised mess I had somehow managed to make.

And then I remembered they wouldn't be strolling in now or anytime soon. It was a harsh reality.

The second wardrobe in the room was large and seemed enchanted to fit in mounds of not only clothes, but a whole range of paraphernalia. I stumbled over boxes and shoes as I pushed myself further in to see exactly where the wardrobe ended. My fingers brushed plastic and I frowned as I almost fell in trying to grab it. Eventually I gripped the hanger and seized it out.

The plastic covering was dark, removing whatever was underneath it from sight. I reached into the wardrobe again and shuffled around, looking for something – for what exactly I wasn't sure. When I found nothing of importance I returned back to the sheathed object. There was a note attached to the black plastic, stapled on. I carefully pulled it off and read the messy writing.

It was Bill's writing. And Nanny Anne's. It looked as if they had fought for the pen when scribbling down the note. I could picture them: a muscular hunky Scotsman and a charming blonde woman, young and in love as they laid on a bed, gently savouring the moment of sweetness they shared. It didn't last long, of course, as one of them (I imagined Nanny Anne) removed herself from her husband's arms and pulled a small square of paper out of the bedside drawer, with it a pen. Her writing started off elegant, and then Bill sat behind her, enfolding himself around her as only he knew how. His breath would tickle her neck and ears as he read over her shoulder and she would shuffle away from him, only for him to pull her back. Then he would yank her from her waist and snatch the pen from her grasp, scribbling words himself. They would playfully wrestle for ownership of the pen, each writing ridiculous sentences one after another until they succumbed into deep sensual love once again.

I blinked, and the image changed. It was no longer Nanny Anne and Bill in a loving embrace. It was me who replaced Nanny Anne. And then a flash of red hair and I forced the image out of my mind. My breathing was erratic as I awakened in the real world, the note clasped firmly in my hand. The words were jumbled and chaotic, overlapping each other. But I could identify some of them. This was Nanny Anne's wedding gown.

I placed the note on the bed beside me, and slowly removed the plastic, revealing shimmery pale gold. My fingers shook as I fingered the dress. It was strapless and the top of the bodice was sprinkled with gold and silver sequins which disappeared over the full tulle skirt that flowed to the ground. I was in awe. It was the most beautiful dress I had ever laid eyes on; far better than any I had encountered in the shops.

Wetness marred my cheeks and I laughed breathily at my soppiness. It was only a dress! Yet I felt oddly connected to it. It gave off an ethereal aura, matching the angelic qualities sewn into the gown.

I hastily packed away everything else and rushed to Mrs Brimble's, desperate to show Zoe the dress before I gathered my things to depart back to Hogwarts.

One more night with Nate and Zoe. I had to make the best of it.


	19. Yule Ball

19\. Yule Ball

* * *

It all felt like a dream. One minute I was waking up to Zoe jumping into bed with me and rubbing her frozen feet against my calves in a successful attempt to wake me as gracefully as she knew how, and the next I was back in Dumbledore's office, instantly sobering up in the warmth his presence brought. All day it had taken for me to adjust to the thought that I was leaving. A sense of dread hung over the Brimble's, something I was not accustomed to in the presence of the ever joyful family.

Zoe, Nate and I had slept over at my house, watching movies and telling stories all night, a memory we would all hold onto whilst away from each other. And that was when I told them of Fred.

To say they were shocked would be a great understatement. For minutes they had sat there in our makeshift fort, similar to the ones we made many years ago, silently contemplating the news that had just been broadcasted. And then Zoe screamed.

"No flipping way!" Her voice was shrill and astonished. "How long has this been going on for?"

"I'm guessing since they were born, Zo," Nate commented. He was taking the news far better than Zoe; the only sign of his shock being his wide eyes that lasted for about three seconds. Boys and their attitudes towards being masculine. Apparently the status of masculinity meant the secrecy of true feelings and the absence of vulnerability. But that wasn't being a man; that was being a rock. And rocks were only good for hurting.

"Piss off, that's not what I meant, idiot!"

And then broke out a casual squabble between the two before Nate hastily brought the conversation back to the uncovered twin. Her question were endless, and I soon came to regret informing them when she smirked and teased me mercilessly.

"Well, if Georgie ends up with this new bird of his you have an exact replica to fawn over!"

The amusement of seeing her expression when she found out that Fred, too, was involved with another girl was priceless, although painful when I admitted it.

We fought sleep but somehow drifted off sometime in the early hours of the morning with the voices from the TV lulling us into deep slumber, all of us sandwiched together under a duvet. I woke up with my best friends on either side of me, our limbs intertwined as if we were one. The image was clear: we were all together, will always be together.

I had to blink away tears as Dumbledore greeted me. We didn't converse long; it was a simple catch up on the nothings that had occurred in my absence. He bid me farewell as I yawned for the hundredth time, sending my luggage to my dorm for me. I left his office with half-lidded eyes and sloppy steps.

"Ooft!" I collided into a body; hands held my arms, steadying me.

"We really must stop meeting like this," Darren's voice came, full of mirth. My hazy state evaporated immediately.

"I think you look for an excuse to keep barging into me," I quipped, grinning up at his matching smile.

"And where might you have been all week?" he asked.

"I went home."

"Aw, you couldn't stand to be away from mummy and daddy for such a long period of time?" he teased, pinching my cheek lightly, the awkwardness from when he had asked me to the ball gone.

My chest ached but I pushed the feeling away. "Something like that," I murmured.

"Your Weasley's didn't let up where you had gone. Can you believe it? I went so far as to ask them!"

I laughed. "Oh, poor you! What are you doing up so late anyway?"

"Prefect duties just finished and I was heading back to –"

"Oi! What are you doing out here this late? You should be in bed," a female voice yelled down the corridor.

Her figure was shadowed in the darkness, but I could just make out a wand pointed towards us, the light illuminating the tip burning my eyes. I covered my face with my hands.

"I said what are you –"

She stepped forward and slowly her appearance sharpened into focus. She had short, dark brown hair framing her face, her skin a light and almost non-existent tan and moss green eyes. Her features were plain and common but her face, stern and hard, was not.

"Darren," she greeted with a small sharp nod, "who's this? Out of bed after curfew," she tutted and eyed me with a sneer. "You escorting her to her head of house?"

Darren crossed his arms over his chest and quirked an eyebrow down at her. "Gilly, you shouldn't be out of bed either. Last I checked you're only a third year."

The young girl frowned at Darren and mimicked his stance. "Are you consorting with other houses again? What's it this time, little fondle with a Hufflepuff?"

"Get lost, Gills, don't make me give you a detention and take away house points," Darren threatened with an eye roll.

"Snape wouldn't be too pleased if you were to do that."

Her wand was lowered to the ground, dimming the harshness of the white light. I dropped my hands from my face and fisted them in my pockets. The girl scrutinised me, her thick brows furrowed.

"I know you," she declared.

I blinked at her. Perhaps she had seen me in the Great Hall during breakfast one morning. Or maybe in the Entrance Hall on my way back to the kitchen.

Her eyes widened and then she smirked. "What house are you in?"

"Gryffindor," I answered, unnerved by her maniacal smirk.

She tutted and giggled. "Really?"

"She is, Gills. Now get lost," Darren snapped.

"Oh, I don't think so," her smirk intensified and her eyes darkened, "Ella."

I frowned at the little girl, confusion clouding over my senses from the cold. I stayed silent.

"You're not in a house," she stated, grinning maliciously. "I know you're not. Now, the question is, what in Merlin's name are you doing here of all places?"

I was certain my heart stopped for a second or two. No way did she know. How could she? I swallowed the thick lump in my throat and maintained my expression of confusion. It was hard enough focusing on breathing properly let alone how I looked.

"What are you banging on about?" Darren asked.

"Devious, aren't you, Ella? How could you not tell sweet Darren?" she taunted. "Are you scared? Does someone want a cuddle under the blanket?"

I stood speechless, my breathing short and sharp and fast. "Abigail."

Her grin widened and she smacked my shoulder. "You finally caught on! Well done! You _were_ always the slow one."

My head was shaking frantically from side to side. What happened to her? No. No this couldn't be. What had changed my angelic little sister into…this?

"Abigail," Darren called, using my sister's full name for the first time, "go."

She hummed. "Mmm nope. Don't think I will. So, tell me – no, tell _us, _Ella – what are you doing here? Hm?"

Nothing was working: my voice, my mind, my mouth. The only thing that I was capable of deciphering was my erratic heart.

"Cat got your tongue?" Abigail pouted, her wide eyes staring up at me. "No? Nothing to say? What a shame. It would have been a nice thing to tell the parents, you know, what you're doing here, how you got here. I'm sure they'd love to know."

"Abi…"

"Oh! Ella _can_ talk!"

"Ella, what's going on?" Darren asked me, retreating from his ignored orders on Abigail. His hand was feather light on my arm, almost like a caress of the barest slither of warm sunlight.

"This is the date you were talking about!" Abi laughed, putting together his affection towards me. "You asked _Ella!_"

We ignored her. Darren attempted to get me to answer him again.

"You're killing Darren here, Ella. You should tell him."

He looked between the two of us, my face most likely frightened and pale. He didn't push the matter.

"GO ON!" she yelled, her voice echoing in the corridor. It was only a matter of time before Mrs Norris alerted Filch. Perhaps I could hold off until they came and he dragged her away. God, please let Filch be useful for once. "Tell him! Now. Tell him now. Does your precious Darren not deserve to know? Tell him!"

Her voice was restless and loud. In a few seconds she ceased her yelling. "Ok then. I'll tell him."

I faced her completely and shook my head. No! No, she couldn't tell him! This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

She gave me a wink and then turned to Darren, lightly rocking on her feet before leaning into whisper conspiringly to Darren.

"Dearest Ella here is a squib."

Moments passed where all evidence of life ceased to show but the roaring winds. I had always thought that a silence like this would happen to other people in other lives, like the ones so often seen in movies. The dramatic pauses that last light-years and have no purpose but to extend tension. This silence was not one of tension. It was shattered by Darren's laughter.

"Don't be daft, Gills. This is a new low, even for you."

His response didn't faze her, and she continued grinning. "Funny, huh? Show him your wand," she said to me.

My head dropped, my eyes staring at the floor. I didn't want to see Darren's face as to my reluctance to show him a wand I didn't have. I didn't want to see him when he realised the truth.

"Ella," his voice called, "where's your wand?"

I swallowed, exhaled a deep breath, and slowly lifted my eyes. With all the energy I could muster I shook my head. Darren frowned at me.

"No wand?"

I shook my head again.

"So…you lost it?"

I blinked and shook my head.

"You're…you're a…"

I couldn't do it. My eyes left his again and I nodded.

"There, now was that so hard?" Abigail's voice sang. My blood boiled and my stomach lurched. I was going to be sick. "I can only assume that your status as squib scum means the oh-so mighty Dumbledore took you in. You work here?"

I said nothing; did nothing.

She smacked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "I take that as a yes. Well then! Darren, shall we?"

For a moment, I thought he would ignore her again, to yell out against her and claim he didn't care about my magical status. After all, this was the boy who had asked a suspected Gryffindor to the Yule Ball!

But apparently a Slytherin with a Gryffindor was the longest stretch.

The sound of her skipping away was slowly fading, followed by Darren's heavy feet. How was it we always managed to bump into each other without me hearing him?

"Oh, and darling," Abigail called out, "you'll be needing another date for the ball. Darren here can't even look at you, let alone dance with you!"

And with that, my once sweet sister now turned malicious, sauntered away, shattering my resolve.

I watched him leave. He didn't look back. How did everything change so rapidly?

I couldn't sleep that night. The darkness played with my thoughts, taunting and teasing me as I tossed and turned away from demons, only to be met with more. Eventually, I gave up and stared into the fire in the kitchen. I was sniffling, from the cold or the tears, or maybe even both. I didn't even try to stop; I had to let myself break down. But they were silent tears. This wasn't breaking down. Hard, painful, heart shattering sobs was breaking down. This was quiet confusion, weak sadness and lonely recovering. But I wouldn't be able to recover until I broke down. It was a vicious cycle.

The house elves were buzzing with energy from the second they woke up, preparing the castle for the ball. It started at eight o'clock but they wasted no time, gathering ingredients for the luxurious meals and designing the decorations for the Great Hall. Even Bonnie was caught up in the festive cheer, greeting me with a brief hello before scurrying off.

The armchair was where I spent my entire day. I did move every once in a while to observe the meals and unpack a few items from my bags, but I was too numb to stay up for long. And seeing the pale gold dress folded neatly within the black plastic urged me to lock myself out of my dorm forever.

When the time got closer to the beginning of the ball I went up to the Great Hall to help the finalising of the decorating. If I couldn't attend the ball, I bloody well was going to see it take shape. The corridors were empty so I had no trouble getting caught. Bonnie managed to get me into the Great Hall (it was locked to any students attempting to come in before) and I gasped at the beauty.

It was a wonderland full of magic. The trees stood tall and were covered with marvellous baubles and…snow? Whether it was real or not I wasn't sure. The long house benches were gone, now replaced by smaller circular tables with fantastic centre pieces and the gold plates and cutlery set out to perfection. The sky reflected the perfect winter scene of gracefully falling snowflakes.

I felt a pang, realising I could only admire the ethereal beauty without the presence of the other students and the professors, without the music setting the mood and beating life into the room.

It wasn't too long until I retreated back to the kitchen.

The announcements were loud and boomed in the kitchen, as did the music, threatening to damage my ears. It started off as a simple waltz, and if I closed my eyes I could clearly see the champions with their partners. In the midst of my imagining Harry with his partner, the young adolescent stiff and mechanical in his movements an image of a twin came into my head. Were they waltzing also? It didn't seem likely; they were far too outgoing for a simple routine dance. I cast the scene out as quick as it came, missing the female partner, and thus puzzled on the identity of the twin.

The waltz stopped, replaced by a fast paced song. I could almost feel the vibrations from the jumping and thumping of the bodies above. This was music for the twins.

Mugs littered the floor around me as the night went on and the music dragged. I held tightly onto one, absorbing all the heat from it before gulping down the remnants and dropping it. I sighed as the song changed again and got up, more hot chocolate on my mind. Was Darren up there now? Dancing with a Slytherin like himself, like my sister? I didn't want to think about them. Not now.

The pear giggled. The door swung open.

With my new mug in hand I turned and then stopped.

"Hey."

"Hi."

We stood there, taking in one another. He was dressed in a navy blue shirt, sleeves rolled up, showing firm arms, and a loosened yellow bowtie, his black dress robes hanging from the crook of his elbow. His red hair was an absolute mess.

"Can I have one?" he asked, nodding to my mug.

Wordlessly I nodded, handed him my mug and made myself another. He seated himself in one of the armchairs, his head rested back and his eyes closed. He looked knackered.

"How was Ottery?"

I shrugged. "It was good."

"I'm sorry," he said.

I wanted to laugh and yell, one before the other or at the same time. "For what?"

"Being an arse. Not seeing you before you left."

I nodded in acceptance of his apology.

"Did you enjoy the ball?" I asked. It was odd, not knowing which twin I was talking to but still feeling as if I knew. It was indescribable, really.

"Was alright," he answered, shrugging as if it were the most casual and normal event to be at, like a weekly family dinner. "Did you? I didn't see you."

I swallowed some of the scalding liquid, relishing in the distraction of the burn. "You looked for me?"

"I…yeah. I guess."

"I'm sorry…for everything I said before. Angelina gave me hell tonight."

Fred. This was Fred. This knowledge made my insides squirm.

"You deserved it."

"I know. I'm sorry."

I couldn't help but giggle. "Stop apologising."

He smirked. "Well would you hurry up and forgive me already?"

"Do I have to say it?" I asked teasingly.

"Would be much appreciated."

"You're forgiven, Fred."

He grinned. "I'm George, you idiot."

I spluttered on my hot chocolate and scrutinised him carefully. I grinned. "Nope, you're definitely Fred."

"And how would you know?"

I tapped the side of my nose and winked. We settled into a comfortable silence. He jumped off his armchair and grabbed my hand, pulling me off mine and settling down on a bench with desserts.

"Did you not eat enough up there?" I laughed, watching him swallow a massive spoonful of cake.

"All that dancing's made me hungry again," he mumbled, spraying cream over me.

"You're a pig."

"A tasty one, I hope," he winked an exaggerated, obnoxious wink, pointing his spoon at my mouth, smearing some food over my face and forcing it closer until I ate it.

"Shove off, git!" I laughed, pushing him away as he flew the 'broomstick' in the air before making a show of it landing near my nose.

"Well, if you don't want it…"

Through our laughter I hadn't noticed his face closing in on mine. As I wiped some cream off my cheeks I felt something slide across my face. It started on my nose, then slid down to the corner of my mouth and ended at my other cheek.

"Mmm, yummy."

Fred licked his lips and winked at my disgusted expression.

"You licked me!" I shrieked, wiping my face with my hands vigorously. His laughter intensified.

"You were going to waste it."

"No I wasn't!"

"Aw, is little Princess afraid of a little bit of Weasley germs?" he mocked. Fred stuck his tongue out again and leaned in closer. I pushed him away before he got to me this time.

"Piss off!" I giggled.

We calmed down and moved onto a foreign dessert. I ate greedily, willing my body to catch up on the meals I had missed. The music was background noise now, no longer the focus of my attention.

"When did you leave?" Fred asked.

"Hm?"

"When did you leave the ball?" he reiterated. "None of us saw you or Darren, and you're not in dress robes."

My eyes dropped to the bowl in front of me, my spoon dancing in the goo.

"I didn't go," I murmured.

"But…" his eyebrows were furrowed. "You said –"

"Turns out you were right," I said, smiling lightly.

Instantly his eyes hardened and he clenched his fists. "That fucking –"

"Fred!" I exclaimed. How easy it had been for his mood to turn! The boy certainly had a temper.

"How dare he! That bastard!" Fred stood and paced the kitchen rapidly, his hands running through his hair and mussing it up further. "I'll kill him. I swear I'll bloody –"

"Don't even go there," I warned, standing in front of him. His cerulean eyes were shadowed, masking him with a look of darkness.

"Why shouldn't I?" he spat.

"Because that was you not too long ago, Fred," I spoke softly.

He staggered back, almost as if I had slapped him. The shadows lifted and he was Fred again. "I'm sorry."

My hand met his and I squeezed it. A simple gesture. I led him back to the armchairs. There was still music playing, quieter than how it was at the beginning of the ball but still loud enough to resonate in the kitchen. I checked the time, seeing it was almost midnight.

"Did you really think I hated you because you're a squib?" he asked.

"Didn't you?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "Hell no."

I didn't have to ask him why.

"Have you ever had someone with you for your entire life that you shared absolutely everything with, and then one day you find out they had this humungous secret which they kept? That they…they liked the fact that they could be separated from their other half? Do you know how that feels?" I shook my head. "Betrayal." He scoffed. "I felt as if I wasn't good enough for my own brother, that I didn't deserve to know his other friend that he'd been hiding from me for years. For those few moments I didn't feel like his twin. I was just someone walking through life with him, going through the motions but not engaging with them. I felt replaced. Cheated.

"I'm sorry that it had to be you to be on the other end of that. I really am. You're...cool," he chuckled. "I see why Georgie boy wanted you all to himself now."

"I'm sorry you felt that way," Fred brushed my comment away. "No, seriously. I was pretty mad at George too for not telling me he was a twin. He told me all about you but left that bit out."

"Hell, if he'd told me about you I wouldn't have minded so much, greedy git."

I laughed. It felt amazing to have heard from Fred that he didn't hate me at all for my status. I felt a million times lighter.

Fred checked the time, and leaped off the armchair. He smirked, sauntering over to me with a wiggle in his hips and a skip in his step. I couldn't help but laugh, he looked ridiculous. He reached his hand out to me and winked.

"I believe this is the last song for the night and seeing as my Princess hasn't even had a dance, I say we share this one."

Without a second thought I placed my hand in his, relishing in the feel of the clammy skin. He seized it and yanked me up, forcing my body to collide into his. The song playing was slow and gentle, but from the mischievous twinkle in his eyes this dance was going to be anything but.

He held each of my hands within his, holding them high. I was completely lost to his movements so I followed him with my eyes at first, watching his one leg shimmy forward and then back, soon mimicked by the other. His hips wriggled and he waved his arms. It was possibly the most bizarre dance.

"What are you doing?" I giggled, trying to extract my hands from his. He gripped tighter.

"Dancing," he replied with a wink, his smirk never leaving. "Or would you rather something like this?"

His hands left mine, moving to my waist and pulling me closer to him. My eyes were locked on his in an intense stare which neither of us were backing down from. It was a war with our gaze, dominant and confident. His dancing slowed to the point we were swaying on the spot.

And then his fingers ran over ribs firmly and I jumped, squealing in laughter and cursing him. He chased me around the kitchen in a game of cat and mouse. It didn't last long, he had his arms around me in an instant again, pulling my back flush against him as he picked me up, my legs kicking in the air in front of us.

"You're such an arse," I chuckled through my forceful breathing.

"What was that? I have such a magnificent arse? Why thank you, love," Fred boomed, leaning over and smacking his bum.

The music hummed to a quiet end above us and footsteps could be heard retreating to respective common rooms. "So much for that dance," I said, glaring playfully at Fred.

He slowly made his way to me and gently gathered my hands in his. With careful hands, he pulled me in close, so close his lips brushed over my ear and his breath warmed my skin. "You don't need Darren. You shouldn't have been in the position to consider him even asking you. I'm sorry."

His voice was serious, and it unnerved me. I wasn't used to this Fred. Angry Fred, funny Fred, spiteful Fred and flirty Fred I could deal with. Serious Fred was a whole new level.

"Who needs music anyway!" he said, grinning. "You shall have your dance."

With that, he jumped back, back into the Fred I liked best and…danced. It was the oddest thing ever, watching him turn and wiggle and thrust and wave himself to silence, and then eventually to my laughter. He wouldn't have this. He grabbed my hands and forced me into an eccentric dance, one where no rules applied, no true form or pattern, just our bodies moving randomly.

We danced without the restriction of time until the fire in the fireplace fizzled out, until we tired ourselves to exhaustion in an armchair, ignoring the vacant others. We shard our warmth that night.

I hadn't gone to the Yule Ball. And I loved it.


	20. Presents

**Thank you for all the follows/favourites and reviews! This chapter is just fluff. Pure fluffy fluffness.**

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20\. Presents

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Cosy was one word to describe how I was feeling during that half state of consciousness upon waking up. I didn't want to wake up. The foggy remains of my dream were slowly fizzling out of my memory, leaving behind faint traces of emotions: happiness, bliss, elation. Warm – that's another word to describe it. I recall feeling this internal warmth what felt like lifetimes ago in Hogwarts, and it was back in full force, possibly even more.

I could have slept for the rest of the day, snuggled up with the thick blankets and cushions on the plush armchair. I rubbed my nose deeper into the soft fabric to avoid the object poking my cheek, but it was persistent and getting harder every time I moved, determine to rouse me from my state of utter ecstasy.

"Darling, time to get up."

"No, Nanny. More sleep. S'warm," I said, sleep fogging my brain and slurring my speech.

"That's because you're blankets on fire."

My eyes opened in a glare and met the mischievous smirk of one George Weasley.

"Sod off, you idiot. Lemme sleep," I said, snuggling back into the crook of the armchair.

"Oi, how's your morning wood?" he asked, prodding me again.

"I'm still sleeping, I'll let you know once I've had a morning."

"I wasn't talking to you. I said, how's your _morning wood?_"

I frowned, and then my arms shot open as something tugged me closer to the chair from my waist. I jumped forward; the blankets were constricting me as I trashed.

"Bloody hell woman! Stop, I'm trying to sleep," another sluggish voice said.

"Freddo, how's your morning wood?" George laughed.

The blankets finally opened, allowing me to shuffle out and punch George in the arm.

"Not today, dear brother," Fred said. His arm hung over his eyes, shielding it from the glare of the sun.

"You two are disgusting," I said, discreetly taking a peek at Fred to make sure he was telling the truth. "You disturbed me for nothing!"

"Not for nothing," George said, pointing to a large pile of colourfully wrapped boxes and packages under the pathetic tree beside the fireplace. "Can't have you sleeping away Christmas morning."

"George, I'm afraid it's Boxing day today. Christmas was yesterday."

George shrugged. "Didn't see you yesterday, now, did I? Thought I'd make up for it today."

"Aw, Georgie! You're so sweet," I cooed, pinching his cheek hard.

"Ow! Ok, ok, you got me back, stop!"

I removed my hand and looked back to Fred. He was still lying in the armchair, his eyes peeping from under his arm and messy hair, and his lips turned up in a small sleepy smile. Adorable summed up his image.

"You guys are stupid," he said.

"Love you Freddie," George yelled.

"Bonnie!" George called. The little house elf appeared instantly. "Some breakfast for the lovebirds, I believe, dearest Bon Bon."

"Yes Mister Wheezy, sir!" Bonnie ran to retrieve a tray from a long table in the kitchen and returned, thrusting it into my arms. "Enjoy, Miss Ella!"

"Thank you," I giggled. "Come on, Fred, up."

I kicked Fred's leg off the arm of the chair and squeezed in beside him. The sweet aromas flying off the plates seemed to sober Fred; he placed the tray over both our laps, with the plate of pancakes drenched in cream and strawberries on my side as he took the eggs and bacon. George stole a piece of the greasy meat, receiving a smack in return.

"I can't believe you guys eat bacon," I said.

"I can't believe you don't," Fred retorted.

"How can you eat a cute little piggy?"

"S'not so different to you eating lamb, beef and chicken," George chuckled through a mouthful.

"Of course it is!" I exclaimed. "I just…have a different experience with pigs."

"Oh yeah, tell me about it again, I don't think I told Fred this one."

"No."

"Aw, come on! Didn't you get chased by a herd of pigs and then fell face first into a giant pile of –"

"As much as I'd love to continue this smashing conversation while I'm eating, I think present time is more important," Fred said.

"Pancakes first," I said.

"You and your bloody sugar addiction."

"D'you what this needs? Nutella. Lots and lots of Nutella. God, I should have brought some from Ottery, I feel like I'm dying already." My eyes closed as I relished the sweetness of the golden cake.

"You're nutty enough."

"Hurry up and eat your pancakes!" The boys – mainly George – continued bugging me to finish my breakfast. I kept my eyes on him as I slowly brought the fork to my mouth, put it through my parted lips and savoured the sweetness, making sure to wipe the fork clean.

"You do know how erotic that looks, don't you?" George smirked.

I retorted by opening my mouth wide, food half chewed and strands of saliva webbed in full view.

"Definitely George's idea of erotic," Fred laughed.

"Ok, you're done, present time!"

George grabbed the tray off our laps and slid it across the floor. He pulled my hand and led me to the tree. I took the first present, a wide box wrapped in sparkling blue paper with blinking and zooming stars. I pulled off the silver ribbon.

"Oh, yes!" I yelled.

"What is it?"

"A Honeyduke's deluxe package! With all the sweets tripled. Wow!"

"Who's it from?" the twins asked as they sat cross legged on either side of me.

"No name. I think it's from Dumbledore though."

"What makes you say that?"

I shrugged. Carefully placing the box in my lap I moved onto the next box. This one was in purple and orange rough paper. I loosened the string and pulled out a green knitted jumper.

"For a second I thought this was from you boys," I said.

"Hm, those colours are definitely us, wouldn't you say Georgie?"

"Most certainly. Green and orange maybe as well?"

"And magenta."

The twins looked up and grinned. "Brilliant."

I rolled my eyes. "Where are your presents then? Seeing as you're so desperate for me to open yours."

At that the two boys leapt up and shovelled through the few presents and behind the tree before exclaiming, "Ah-ha!" and pulled out a package each. I took the present from the twin on the left first: red and gold with flying broomsticks.

"What are you waiting for?"

I looked up after eyeing the box. "Can I trust it?"

He gasped, held his hand to his heart and cried. "Oh, my poor wounded heart! It won't blow up if that's what you mean, Weasley's honour."

Ripping the paper off revealed feathery quills, a comical apron and a sparkly hairclip.

"I know it's not much, but we're, uh, a bit short of money and had to make do with what we had. The girls chipped in a bit for the hairclip; I was meant to give that to you before the ball, but, y'know, whatever." From his nonchalant attitude I guessed it was George.

"This is wonderful! If you had money issues you didn't need to waste what you had on me, honestly, I would have been happy with an apple," I laughed, remembering his present to me as a child. George accepted my hug with a squeeze, lifting me off the ground for a second.

"Now mine!" Fred said, shoving his present into my hand. It was remarkably smaller than Dumbledore's, Bonnie's and George's, more jagged and thick. He, too, had red and gold paper, the broomsticks on George's replaced with flying, fire breathing dragons. It took longer to open his present.

"You read my mind, Weasley," I said, holding up a gleaming red apple. George laughed.

"I know they're your favourite," Fred winked.

"I love it, Freddo, thanks." I hugged Fred – still in his dress shirt and loosened bow tie, now rumpled – and he rubbed his nose into my messy hair.

Before I could unwind my arms he whispered into my ear: "That's only one, you'll get your proper one later," and with a chaste peck on the cheek – so soft it may have been an accident or a bump of the nose – he let go.

I opened the rest of my present from the girls and Lee, pleasantly surprised at everyone's creativity at thinking of different gifts with the limited stores of Hogsmeade. Alicia had even gone so far as to owl order my gift from her Wonder Witch magazine, a rose scented perfume with a matching silk scarf.

"So, where are our presents?" Fred asked once all the wrapping paper had been disposed of and we were each with a drink: the boys with a warm butterbeer and me with a hot chocolate.

I bit my lip. There hadn't been anything extravagant that caught my eye when I was perusing the shops in Ottery, nothing that screamed out 'WEASLEY!' Everything was either too plain, or too small, or too ordinary. I had even played with the idea of making them something other than cookies and brownies, but the numerous nicks and cuts on my fingers proved how terrible I actually was at crafts. In the end I had to settle with menial muggle gifts, but I hoped the one magical gift I did manage to get was appropriate. Dumbledore had proved incredibly helpful in his suggestions and connections.

"They're in my dorm."

"We can get them later. I promised Lee we'd be back by now," George said, noting the time. "Actually, it's more like twenty minutes ago."

"Oh well."

The Gryffindor common room was lively with students abandoning their homework and using their free time to relax. The girls and Lee were seated in their usual space on the sofa and armchairs, Angelina opting to lay on her stomach before the fireplace.

George hopped over the sofa between Alicia and Katie.

"Hello, ladies. Lee," he greeted.

"Wotcher, Weasley," Lee grinned. "Ella! How fantastic to see you again! Merlin, it's been too long."

Lee pulled me by the hand and into his lap, engulfing me into a tight hug.

"Mate, you're killing her," Fred said.

"Woops. Sorry." He immediately loosened his grip, allowing me to breath.

"I missed you too, Lee," I said.

"Ella, I cannot believe you didn't go to the ball!" Katie said.

"We looked everywhere for you," Alicia said, batting George's straying hand away from her knee.

"You left me with that idiot all night," Angelina exclaimed, glaring at Fred. He winked and blew a kiss in response. She sat up. "Where were you?"

"Umm…" I watched my thumbs as they battled each other in my lap. "I didn't go."

"Why not?"

"Didn't feel like it," I shrugged.

"Bullshit."

Fred was staring at me.

"Tell them the real reason, Ella," he said.

I couldn't open my mouth.

"Ella."

I shook my head. Fred sighed. In quick steps he crouched in front of me and held onto my knees for leverage.

"Tell them," he whispered.

Without looking away from Fred I told them everything, from my first meeting with Darren to the previous night and the encounter with my sister. Everyone was silent when I was finished.

"So…yeah," I finished lamely. Fred smiled, gave my hand a squeeze and pulled me up into a side hug.

"See? Don't you just feel a hundred times better?"

"No."

"Well tough."

"Ella," George said. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"You didn't ask."

He frowned. Slowly, he stood up, and without a word went up the stairs to his dorm.

"Oh dear. Probably going to go break something," Angelina murmured.

"Why? Why would he do that?" I asked.

Alicia sighed. "He feels guilty. Whenever he feels guilty he takes it out on himself. Doesn't tell us though; he'll come back looking all better as if nothing happened."

"I should go and see him," I said, removing Fred's arm.

He told me which door led to their dorm. I imagined hearing bangs and growls as I approached the door, but it was eerily silent. I knocked on the door.

"George?"

No response. I knocked again, louder.

"George."

Still nothing.

"I'm coming in," I said, and pushed the door open.

_CRASH!_

Glass shattered beside my head, freezing my movements.

"Shit! Oh, shit, Ella are you ok? Did that get you?" George was in front of me in seconds, his hands tilting my face this way and that. "No cuts. You're good. Merlin, I thought that hit you for a second."

"Are you ok?"

"Am I ok? Merlin's bloody ball bags, I almost hit you and you're asking _me_ if I'm _ok_?"

"Ok, you're not ok."

George sighed and sat on a bed. He buried his face in his hands.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

I sat beside him. "Like I said, you never asked. And I didn't want to remember that. I'm sorry."

"You've never had a problem telling me anything before. You tell me everything. You know what I'm like. There was no reason to feel ashamed for a fucking little shit like him. Or that cow you have the misfortune of sharing genes with. Ella, we're best friends."

We sat in silence for some moments before George did what he did best - make people cheerful.

"Can I say I told you so at least?"

I laughed, causing him to laugh. It was in these moments I forgot that the Weasley twins weren't always so happy. They had moments of doubt too, they had dark and dreary emotions just like the rest of us. They just had a better control of it and refused to look at the negative aspect of things, preferring to resort to jokes and laughter. It was what made them special.

"In your dreams."

"C'mere." George pulled me into his side, resting his head on mine. "You're amazing, y'know that, right?"

"Of course I do."

"Cheeky sod."

"Ginger wanker."

"Only to Ali. Well, I tell her that. She'd kill me if I actually told the truth on that."

I pulled a face and pushed myself away from George. "So how's it going with you two? Did you make your move at the ball?"

A flush crept up his neck, only slightly covered by his hair. My mouth dropped.

"Oh my god. You're blushing!"

"What? Pfft, no I'm not," he waved his hand in the air, batting away the silly comment.

"Yes you are! Yes you are! Oh my god, George Weasley is blushing!" I chanted.

George stared at me, unimpressed as I laughed it off. He rested against the headboard, his ankles crossed, and twirled with the ends of his hair, waiting for me to finish.

"You done?" he asked menacingly as I coughed myself free of mirth.

I nodded.

"Yes, I did make a move. And we are now officially together."

Despite the suddenness of the news, it didn't seem like much of a surprise. A few months ago I would have possibly drowned in jealousy and sadness, the thought of my best friend with another. But a stupid grin took over my face and I couldn't be happier for them. They fit together perfectly. And they were a hot couple.

"So, how did you do it?" I asked, hands clasped together, listening intently.

We spent a few minutes longer discussing their night at the ball and how exactly George managed to woo Alicia into agreeing to be his girlfriend (turns out she didn't need much persuading). We returned to the common room shortly after noon and found that many of the students had left to go lunch.

"Sorted yourself out?" Fred yelled over to George.

"Don't worry, only managed to damage your glass…thing before Ella decided to save the rest of your belongings."

"Oi! Why'd you have to go through my stuff?"

"Less sentimental value to me," George smirked and twirled his wand; he had magically repaired the glass object before returning to the Gryffindors.

"Well, I'm hungry and going down for lunch," Katie said, stretching as she stood. Her top slipped up, baring her toned stomach. The boys whistled.

"Perverts," Angelina spat, pushing past Fred as he attempted to grab her.

"Go on Alicia, punish George for ogling your friend!" Lee said. "Reckon he deserves a spanking?"

Alicia's hand flew through the air and smacked against Lee's head.

"I'm not going to blame him for something I would do," she muttered, following the girls out.

George smirked at Lee, then, suddenly realising the meaning of Alicia's words, ran out after her.

"This better not mean you're going to check out Diggory's arse! Oi – I mean it! Ali!"

Lunch, it was soon decided, was to be had in the kitchen. It was the first time the entire group was down there together. I helped the elves dish everything up, showing everyone what is was I actually did; they clapped and whooped every time a new dish was served. As soon as everyone finished eating – the boys and Angelina consuming platefuls and Katie demolishing the cake – the conversation steered to the second task. The ideas ranged from fighting banshees to battling Hagrid's Blast-ended Skrewts against each other. As far as they knew, the golden egg from the first task hadn't helped very much in preparing the Triwizard champions for their upcoming task, and poor Harry Potter was still as clueless as ever. And his friend Hermione Granger hounding him every moment was apparently not helping either.

Lee brought up having a snowball fight once he caught Alicia staring out of the enchanted high window at the falling snow. Everyone jumped up excitedly in the conquest of beating the opposing gender. One by one everyone left the kitchen.

Fred held me back until it was just us on the excuse of wanting to pocket some snacks.

"Ready for your proper present now? I don't think there'll be another opportunity." He pat his pocket.

"Sure. I have yours in my dorm. Come," I said, leading the way to the cupboard before remembering its enchantment.

Bonnie had to charm the cupboard door into allowing Fred in. He was just as amazed as George was once he straightened out from the small corridor. His eyes looked over every little thing until falling on my half empty bag on my bed.

"Here." I held out a wrapped box to him. Fred wasted no time in ripping it open.

"It's amazing! I've always wanted one," he said, grinning, turning the box around to inspect every side. "What is it?"

"It's an assortment of muggle magic tricks. I did try to look for something special, but Ottery isn't very well known for providing many options in gifts. If you don't like it I could take it back and get you something else. I know it's nothing special but –"

I was interrupted by his hand over my mouth.

"Shut up already, woman. I said it's amazing. You'll have to show me how to use them one day."

"They have instructions. I'm sure you can learn for yourself. Oh," I pulled out another box from under my bed. "Almost forgot. Present number two. After I realised how crappy that and unoriginal that actually is I thought I'd treat you to something better. I hope you didn't get one already."

"Look at you, all prepared for plan B if the muggle magic didn't go down well," Fred smirked.

"Shut up and open it."

I didn't have to tell him twice. My hands were fidgeting with the edge of my sleeves as he opened the box. This time, his mouth fell open, his eyes widened, and he looked absolutely gobsmacked.

"Ella, how did you get this?"

"Got a little help from Dumbledore," I said, smiling as his hand traced over the wood.

He pulled out the beater's bat and dropped the box. He grasped the narrow end firmly and swung it around him.

"Holy...this is great!"

"Glad you like it. I got one for George as well. And look," I grasped his wrist, stopping his swinging and pointed to the side of the bat.

"Merlin's tits! Is that…that _is!_ How did you get Joey Jenkins to sign this?" he gasped, fingering the permanent mark of the Chudley Canon's beater.

"I know Dumbledore supports Puddelmere United, but he pulled in a favour. Look, you missed the other one."

If it were possible Fred's eyes bugged even wider as I pointed to the other engravings. "That's Quigley and Connolly from the Irish national team."

"Again, you have Dumbledore to thank for that. I brought the bats, he got them signed."

Fred pulled me into a hug – an excruciatingly painful yet comforting hug.

"You're the best! I can't wait to start Quidditch again."

He swung the bat around a few more times before realising he hadn't given me my present yet. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small brown bag, enlarged it with his wand.

"Sorry there's no box, it cost extra."

Inside the bag was a silver chain with a small rose pendant, glimmering in red jewels.

"I coordinated with Alicia. Actually, I kind of steered her in the direction of roses. Are you ok?"

No, I most certainly was not ok. It was too much, especially if they were having money issues.

"Fred, I can't take this, it must have cost you quite a bit."

"It was no problem. A pretty Princess deserves pretty things," he winked. He carefully placed his new bat on the ground and held his hands out. "May I?"

He took the necklace from my hands and moved behind me, gently pushing my hair over my shoulder. I lifted it up for him as he locked the chain behind my neck. His hands weighed down on my shoulders and his breath tickled my ear and neck as he whispered. "Now you have a fancy bracelet and necklace."

The chain and pendant was cold on my skin, flushed from Fred's close proximity. I held my hand up, my sleeve rolling down slightly to reveal the bracelet him and George had got me from Egypt years ago.

"It's perfect," I smiled.

"Right then!" Fred boomed and clapped his hands. "Don't want this moment turning soppy. Let's get going shall we?"

He strode over to the bag on my bed and threw out clothes. "Where are your gloves and hat? And you'll need a scarf – quite nippy outside."

"I'll get it, leave my things alone – Fred! Don't throw my knickers!"

Fred stopped. He stared down at my bag as I gathered my clothing from the floor. When I stood up he was holding a black plastic bag and lifted out a gold dress. "Was this the dress you were going to wear to the ball?"

"Yes."

He looked up. "You'll wear it one day."

"Oh yeah?"

"Of course. You'll look smashing in it on our wedding, love."

And with a wink, that terribly obnoxious wink, Fred threw my hat and gloves at my head and left the dorm, leaving me speechless and grinning like a fool.


	21. The Second Task

**Thank you for every single follow/favourite and review. It means a lot! Is anyone else missing the angst-y bits, or is it just me?**

**Disclaimer: Bagman's speech is taken directly from Goblet of Fire.**

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21\. The Second Task

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The cold air blew through all my layers of clothing and rattled my bones. The lake below looked menacing beneath the grey sky, threatening to unleash a downpour from the heavens. Somewhere behind me the twins were taking bets for the second task, followed by Lee with his sarcastic and completely biased comments. All the Triwizard champions were visible from our spot by the barrier a few levels up – all but one Harry Potter.

"Still no sign of the boy wonder?" Lee asked, gasping as he pushed through the crowd to get to us.

"Nope," Angelina answered, blowing hot breath into her gloved hands.

"What about his minions?"

"Lee! Don't call them that," Alicia chastised.

"Can't see them either," Katie said, rubbing her gloved hands over her arms.

"Odd. Fred and George said McGonagall called for them last night. No one's seen them since," Lee said.

"Do you think it had something to do with the task?" Alicia asked.

Lee looked over to me and quirked an eyebrow.

"How am I supposed to know?" I said. "Dumbledore doesn't tell me anything about the tasks."

And it was true. The only inside knowledge I had of the tasks was that they all involved magical creatures somehow, revealed to me by Hagrid. Since the task was being held in or around the Black Lake, I could only assume it wouldn't be anything less challenging than the dragons – which was saying something.

Hagrid had actually let it slip that there would be Grindylows involved in this task during his brief period of time off teaching after that horrid Rita Skeeter's article in the Daily Prophet. I had gone to visit him in his hut to find him sulking alongside a drooling Fang. We spoke about Skeeter's nasty tendency to alter quotes and spread rumours about people as we snacked on his rock cakes (I had to take miniscule bites to avoid breaking my teeth). This led on to the topic of Harry Potter and how she continued to probe into his life, masking him as a self-absorbed, attention seeking arse. It did not help that a Slytherin student completely against Harry and Dumbledore, and therefore Hagrid, had given misleading information to the reporter that only furthered her derisive twaddle of the half giant. For a moment I had thought of Abigail.

It was a pleasant surprise, then, seeing Harry's mousy little friend, Hermione, digging into Skeeter in the Three Broomsticks on a Hogsmeade weekend which the twins had so graciously escorted me. They, too, had witnessed the two females and overheard a few snippets. When they saw Skeeter leaving, they snuck out for a little sneak dungbomb attack.

I looked down at a lower platform; Hagrid's large form was visible amongst the other professors. His voice was booming and confident, cheering on Harry before the task had even begun. He was much cheerful now, having many students and professors defending his heritage and position in the school. I couldn't imagine Hogwarts without him.

"He here yet?" Fred asked as he and George emerged from the crowd and huddled against us for warmth. It was easier to tell the twins apart now: George always gravitated towards Alicia despite Fred's efforts of reaching her first to confuse everyone as to their identity.

"Lee only just asked us. No Potter has not arrived in the three seconds that passed since you last asked," Angelina said, rolling her eyes.

"Alright, love, no need to snap," Fred said, hands help up, edging away from Angelina and closer to me.

"Yeah, Ange, don't get your knickers in a twist," George added, his arms around Alicia's middle.

"It's the cold – she can't stand it," Katie said.

"I don't think anyone's too chuffed about it. No one else is biting our balls off," Fred grumbled. He turned his attention to me. "You'll be nice to me, won't you, Princess?"

"I will if you stop calling me that," I said.

"But you're my Princess Ella! I am not worthy of addressing you otherwise."

"Fred, look over there," George called, cutting me off from cursing his brother. They looked over to the judges, where there was a boy with flaming red hair.

"Still here in the place of Crouch?" Fred asked, looking away from the boy, his lips pressed together.

"Apparently so."

"Who's that? Another Weasley?" I asked.

"Unfortunately," George said with a sneer.

Another question was ready on my tongue, but Lee yelled out and pointed to a harried Harry pushing to the front of the platform with the other champions by the judge's tables and then bent over, gasping for breath. The Gryffindors all roared. They were silenced as Bagman's voice carried out through the students with the aid of the _Sonorus_ Charm.

He counted down from three and immediately the stands erupted in applause. Harry stripped his shoes and socks and stuffed what looked to be seaweed into his mouth, then waded into the lake. The Slytherins jeering and catcalling was loud over the other students. Fred and George sent them glares and carefully felt around their pockets.

"Don't," Alicia warned, watching them from the corner of her eyes. "Not now."

George smirked and pecked her on the cheek, returning his eyes to Harry. He looked sick; his robes soaked through with the icy water and his skin deathly pale. I felt immense worry for the boy, the other champions having already disappeared into the depths of the lake, leaving behind a pathetic looking Harry. My worry turned to panic as his hands clawed at his throat and his face twisted. Then, all of a sudden, he flopped into the water.

"Is he ok?" I asked, leaning over the barrier to see if Harry had drowned.

"Oi, easy, don't fall over," Fred said, pulling me back by my coat. "I'm sure he's fine. Harry won't go down that easily."

"That's not very reassuring, Fred," Katie frowned.

"Or you can imagine him losing, perhaps even the loss of proper function in his lungs desperately for something to gossip about. You need to stay positive, Kates," Fred said.

"Fred! That's horrible," Angelina said.

"Tosser," Katie murmured and flipped him the finger.

Time dragged on as we waited for a champions to emerge. We had no way of knowing what was happening under water. The boys attempted to amuse us by practicing some of the card tricks from their muggle magic sets, but quickly gave up when George shuffled the deck and sent them flying into the lake. They then resumed to take more bets, adopting a sixth sense of Divination and predicting the times of certain champions. It was sad that some students were actually buying into it.

My hands were numb under my gloves and my teeth wouldn't stop chattering, seemingly more so than any of the Gryffindors. Fred kept asking me whether I wanted to go back inside and warm myself up, but I refused to miss out on the outcome of the task. At least for the first task I had spent minimum time in the cold watching Harry against the dragon – at least then I saw something at all.

"If we knew what was attacking them under there we could be cheering them on," George sighed. No longer were the girls trying to change the boys' attitudes when it came to the violence of the task, they simply went ignored.

"Grindylows," I answered.

"Go Grindylows!" the twins and Lee cheered, attracting odd stares from the other students.

"You guys are just…I don't even know why I bother," Katie sighed, turning to take a steaming cup of tea a fifth year was handing out.

"Were you the ones cheering on the dragon in the first task?" I asked, recalling the voices loud above all others in the first task.

They puffed out their chests. "Indeed, it was," Lee said. "Wait – you were at the first task?"

"I only got to see Harry. Bonnie took me. We were right at the back and left as soon as Harry got the egg."

"Here you go," Angelina said, appearing from the crowd with a bag of Jelly Slugs and offering some to me.

"Thanks, Angelina," I said, my fingers on the edge of my glove getting ready to take it off when Fred stopped me.

"Allow me, dearest," he said. He pulled out a handful of Jelly Slugs and lifted one to my lips. "Open up, love."

"I can eat myself you know," I said, nonetheless opening my mouth and accepting the sweet. He had not shown his sweet side so much since Boxing Day when he had given me my present, and it was rather odd having him cater to my needs all at once.

"Pathetic he is," George muttered.

"I think it's cute," Alicia cooed and winked.

"Me? Cute?" Fred scoffed at the idea through a mouthful of the sweets. "I would have much preferred chivalrous, or sexy. Fred Weasley is _not_ cute."

Katie pinched his cheek. "You're adorable, Freddie!"

"Gerroff, you barmy nut."

My eyes wandered over to Madame Pomfrey. She was tending to Fleur, so far the only champion to have returned, and she was without the object she had to recover. She looked shaken and weak, her torn robes and lightly weeping cuts only worsening her glowing appearance. Even hurt she looked gorgeous.

A splash from the lake and the loud voices of students caught my attention. A handsome bronze haired boy jumped up from the lake. He gasped in large gulps of air and shook his head, his matted hair obstructing his eyes. Beside him was a beautiful girl with dark hair. I gasped.

"People!" I exclaimed. "The things they have to retrieve – people!" It was clear now, why Fleur looked so anxious. She hadn't been able to save her special person. But surely Dumbledore would not allow anyone to stay down there. He was sure to have some way of getting them back completely safe and unharmed.

Fred and George looked uncharacteristically worried for a moment. "Ron," they chorused.

"You said Hermione hasn't been seen either," Alicia said. "Maybe...maybe they turned up late, like Harry."

But George was shaking his head. "No, they took Ron. He's down there, they both are."

Alicia grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

"But the champions only have one person to save each," Angelina frowned, watching the two students being huddled by Madame Pomfrey as she wrapped them in thick towels.

"Harry has Ron, definitely, but Hermione…"

"Krum," Alicia said, her eyes widening. "He took her to the ball."

Bagman announced the time: Cedric was one minute over.

As we waited for the other champions to appear the Gryffindors explained to me about the other champions: Cedric was a Hufflepuff seventh year, one of the most popular in the school – especially amongst the female population due to his dashing looks (although Fred and George refused to believe Cedric was any better than them) but yet it was his modesty and shyness that attracted girls to his appearance, not at all arrogant. The girl he had saved was Cho Chang, a Ravenclaw who he had taken to the ball. Then there was the Durmstrang boy, Viktor Krum, a successful Quidditch player for Bulgaria. Lastly, was Fleur, the beautiful Beauxbatons student who I was informed was half Veela. No wonder she was so enchantingly attractive, I thought, realising why she looked so good even covered in mud and cuts.

Viktor Krum emerged not long after, his face twisted and gruesome with sharp jagged teeth and a pointed nose. He shook his head and it morphed back into a human face. A girl beside him spluttered. He hoisted her up onto the stand and wrapped her in a towel – Hermione.

"What's taking him so long?" Angelina asked, peering into the dark water. "I wish we could see what's happening."

"Doesn't matter now, he's lost the task for sure," Lee said, leaning against the railing, his hat dangerously close to tipping off.

Hagrid had told me all about Grindylows when he had let it slip: a small, horned water demon, sometimes kept as pets for merpeople – which was most likely the case here – with spindly fingers and pointed fangs. They were terrible once let loose. I didn't want to think about Harry being the only one down there with them – who knew if he had gotten hold of Ron yet.

He had also described to me the variety of merpeople around the world. The Black Lake Merpeople Colony were known to have green hair, yellow eyes and grey skin, and were incredibly tall. They intimidated me from Hagrid's description, the only person who could make the most dangerous creatures sound cute and tame. Yet despite their mysterious and frightening nature, I was awfully intrigued by them, as I was with most magical creatures. They were fascinating creatures, opting to keep the status of beast rather than being: It was Chief Elfrida Clagg who claimed they could not be classed as beings as their language of Mermish could not be deciphered above water. However, in 1811 Minister Grogan Stump allowed their status of being, but they returned to be treated as beasts because they did not want to be categorised with vampires and hags. Their history was remarkable, something I found myself researching after hours in the library with Filch standing guard.

Just as my thoughts turned to Harry being in the presence of such frightening creatures, heads popped out of the water – three of them, in fact. Harry's black hair, Ron's ginger and long blonde hair that could only belong to Fleur's hostage.

The crowd screamed and shouted as the last champion returned and helped forward the blonde girl. Merpeople swam around them, as if accompanying them to the where the judges were standing.

Fred and George were jumping and cheering, throwing their fists in the air and skipping in circles. I laughed as Lee twirled me around, kissed me on the forehead and then jumped onto Angelina, breaking off her hug with Katie. George sought out Alicia, and upon finding her, grabbed her in a deep kiss. An overexcited young student bumped into them and they broke apart laughing.

All the students continued to cheer as the judges huddled around in a conference once Dumbledore had stood from his conversation with the chief merperson. Fred hopped over to me (what appeared to be a third year had just ran over his foot) and leant on my shoulder.

"You alright there?" I laughed, fumbling under his weight.

"Bloody little git," he grumbled, bending over to rub his ankle.

"He was excited! Leave him alone," I lightly smacked him.

"Oh yeah, defend the little shit."

"Fred Weasley – shut up."

He grinned. His foot must have recovered as he stood up straight again and grabbed my hands, twirling me around in a dance.

"What are you doing?" I laughed, attempting to hide my face behind my hair from the curious glances.

"Dancing," he said. "Why? Can I not dance?"

"It's a bit of an odd time to dance," I laughed.

He dipped me dangerously low to the ground. I gripped tighter on his shoulders.

"Fred – stop! Help me up, you arse."

I wanted so desperately to glare and look threatening, but the mood was so light and carefree I couldn't help but laugh.

He helped me up again, just as the judges finished their discussion. Ludo Bagman's voice broke through the air, making us jump. The crowd was silenced again.

"Ladies and gentleman, we have reached our decision. Mer-chieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows…"

Fred and I snuck back to the front where the others were as the points were being awarded.

"Miss Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by Grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points."

The crowd applauded politely.

"Well, that was lucky," George said.

"I was sure she would have gotten less than that," Fred agreed. They both referred to their parchment, scribbled with bets.

Bagman continued. "Mr Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour. We therefore award him forty-seven points."

The students, Hufflepuffs in particular, roared. I caught a glimpse of Cho giving Cedric a beaming smile.

"Forty-seven out of fifty!" the girls gasped.

"Mr Viktor Krum, used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points."

The Durmstrang students and their Headmaster, Karkaroff, clapped hard. Now, for Harry.

"Mr Harry Potter used Gillyweed to great effect. He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Mer-chieftainess informs us that Mr Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own."

I held my breath.

"Most of the judges," – Bagman gave Karkaroff a particularly nasty look – "feel that his shows moral fibre and merits full marks. However…Mr Potter's score is forty-five points."

The students were in an uproar once again, most elated and some outraged. The twins hollered, cheering on, "MORAL FIBRE WINS!" as they collected their winnings, despite Harry now being in joint first with Cedric. The noise was so loud it almost drowned out the announcement for the third and final task.

I joined the girls in a group hug, excited to be sharing this experience with the other students. Lee huddled in close to us and said, "Party in the common room! Food's already waiting," to which he winked at me.

It was at the party that I finally got to have my first real conversation with Harry and his friends without feeling blustered. Fred led me to them in a corner and introduced me again.

"You were really good – well, as far as I could see," I said after shaking Harry's hand. Their gazes were making me uncomfortable, so I carried on. "It was really nice of you to save Fleur's sister as well as Ron. And Ron – you helped saved her too even though you were out all that time!"

The young Weasley boy blushed at the comment. Hermione rolled her eyes, and mouthed, "Boys."

"Thanks, Ella," Harry said. "What year did you say you were in again?"

"She's in her fifth year. Or rather, she would be. But she's not a student, she's a squib working here," Fred answered before I had the chance to open my mouth. My eyes widened.

"Fred!" I hissed. I peered out the corner of my eyes to see the trio looking shocked and uncomfortable.

"Really?" Hermione asked. "That's fascinating. May I ask how you came about here?"

I sent Fred a glare before smiling awkwardly at Hermione. "Er – it was Dumbledore. Or – no, actually it was my guardian, Bill. He knew Dumbledore, and then Dumbledore came and offered me a position here, where I also get some lessons. I haven't been here long, actually."

"And you are friends with him," Hermione said, pointedly looking at Fred openly ogling a passing girl's bum.

"Unfortunately," I replied. Hermione giggled.

Fred snapped his head back. "What?"

"Nothing," I said, and rolled my eyes.

I spoke to the trio for a long time, happily answering their questions about my status and asking some of my own, attempting not to ask them – particularly Harry – any obvious questions: "Oh, Harry, how does it feel to be the only person to have ever lived the killing curse? How is it, knowing that everyone in the wizarding worlds knows of you?"

As Hermione was ranting about her newest project spew – "It's not _spew,_ it's S.P.E.W!" – Fred leant in and whispered in my ear. "It gets easier, doesn't it?"

I turned my head to look in his eyes, awfully close to mine. I smiled. "Yes, thanks."

* * *

The clock showed that it was half past eleven; the twins were meant to have arrived ages ago. I yawned and fiddled with the rose pendant on my neck. They had mentioned that it was Ron's birthday, so I assumed they were giving him some late night hell.

My eyes wandered over to the mantle above the fireplace where I placed the object that had arrived earlier in the day. At first I thought it was an accident; that an owl somehow flew into the kitchen and dropped someone else's package by me. But it had my name on it: Ella Wood.

It was a late Christmas present from a relative of Bill's. I was surprised to open a long letter under a few photos of Bill, Nanny Anne and other people I had never seen before. Inside was also a brand new snow globe with a figure of a flying Quidditch player in the Puddelmere United uniform. The scene was of a Quidditch pitch in the rain which slowly died away with light beams shining down, greenery and flowers emerging from the ground. In the letter I was informed that the weather would change along with the seasons: it was now depicting the transition of spring.

It was from a nephew of Bill's, recently graduated from Hogwarts and was now playing Keeper for Puddelmere United. His parents notified him of Bill's sudden passing, and despite living in Scotland he had not attended his funeral – apparently he was at try-outs. He took it upon himself to owl me once he had found out I was residing at Hogwarts, wondering if there was anything I needed that I could go to him and his family.

Oliver. The letter was signed by Oliver Wood. He had been in Gryffindor, a Keeper in the Quidditch team and captain – it was a really long letter – and was primarily living in London, although he visited his family in Scotland often.

I wanted to ask the twins about him, what with them being on the Quidditch team and Oliver having graduated in the summer before. I felt a surge of warmth when he had concluded his letter with heartfelt concern. It felt like I still had a loving family, one who I could connect with through Bill and Nanny Anne. It did not matter that I did not know this boy, I wanted to.

"Ella?"

"Over here."

"What are you staring at?"

There was only one twin standing behind my chair.

"Where's your clone?" I asked, knowing full well this was Fred.

"Angelina dragged him off somewhere as soon as we finished giving Ronnie his present. I legged it before she could get to me," he said.

"Angelina?"

"Probably taking him to Alicia – she was probably annoying her."

"Ah."

Lately, Alicia had gotten very anxious because of her exams. She was always with a book and carried around spare sheets of parchment and twelve quills with full ink pots. The other girls were not as worried as her, and often grew tiresome at her nagging at them to revise. Even George had trouble keeping her calm most times; Alicia was quick to jump down his throat about his lack of concern, yet he still had more of an influence than most.

"Poor bloke," I said.

"His girl, his problem," Fred shrugged.

I laughed. "What do you know about Oliver Wood?"

"Why?" he quirked an eyebrow, spreading himself out on an armchair.

"He's Bill's nephew. He owled me earlier," I pointed to the snow globe, "And sent a letter saying how I can stay with him or his family during the breaks."

"You _or_ his family?"

"He's in London, visits them sometimes. Were you friends?"

"Yeah, I guess. He was a proper Quidditch nut though. Good bloke. You seriously thinking about this?"

I nodded. "Well, yeah. I mean – I don't really want to move out of Ottery, but with Oliver…he's practically family. Distant, though, of course, I've never even met the guy, but…I don't know."

"Did you reply to him?" he asked.

"Yes. Nothing as detailed as what he wrote me, though."

Fred stared into a small dark corner in the kitchen, his face distant. "How about you invite him over for the next Hogsmeade weekend? You can get to know him and then make your decision."

I grinned. "That's brilliant!"

"Of course it is – I came up with it," Fred winked. "Is there any leftover pie from dinner?"

"Apple or chicken?" I asked, already on my feet and slicing one of each.

"Both."

He grinned when he saw I already had both in each hand.

"You know me too well," he said. "Is this the last of it? Boy, George's going to have a fit - he couldn't stop eating this earlier. Was about to get more when the food disappeared."

"His loss. Pie is just..."

"Orgasmic?" Fred suggested, his lip curling up in a smirk.

I scrunched my nose. "Sure. Whatever."

"Do you know what else is orgasmic?"

"I don't want to know!"

Fred laughed. "you're so innocent."

"You're so corrupt."

"I wasn't going to say anything dirty! Honestly." I gave him a pointed stare. "Ok then, not _that_ dirty."

I sat back in my chair and looked over him as he ate, his hair moving into his face despite him repeatedly brushing it behind an ear.

"Here," I pulled a hairband off my wrist and held it out to him.

He put his plate down and took it. "How the hell do you use this? Show me," he said, stretching the rubber as far as he could. It snapped against his finger.

I took the hairband and stood behind him. My fingers brushed through his hair, softer than I ever could have imagined, and bunched it together at the nape of his neck, pulling the band over it three times. I tugged on the end.

"There you go."

"How do I look?" he asked, puffing his chest out and posing.

"It actually looks quite good."

"Of course it would, it's me we're talking about. I pull it off better than my brother."

"You're brother does his hair like that?"

"Yeah – Bill. He's the oldest. Mum hates his hair. She kept threatening to cut ours when she saw how long it was getting, but we managed to distract her with a few explosions here and there. He has a fang earring, too."

"Sounds hot."

He scoffed. "Please, you have me here to admire."

"I'd like to meet your family one day," I said, resting my chin in the palms of my hands.

Fred looked up from his pie and smiled. "You will."

I smiled back, my heart warming at his sincerity.

"So. Oliver Wood. Tell me everything you know. I'll owl him in the morning."


	22. Gold and Brown

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* * *

22\. Gold and Brown

* * *

I had never truly been alone, not ever. My entire childhood was spent with my biological mother and father and my sister. After that, Nanny Anne and Bill, George, then Fred. And now Oliver.

The process of jumping between families was rocky and certainly unusual. I had lonely moments, of course I did; everyone did. But I had others to rely on, others there for me. I was not alone.

Trust. I had to learn to trust everyone new in my life. As an eight year old, trust came rather easy. I had been given food, shelter, hugs and love. To a child, that equalled trustworthy. Later on, it was slightly more complex. I had long passed the illusions of physical comfort and sought something more. Hadn't my parents once declared their eternal love for me? And yet, that was not enough, I realised. For those who love you can still hurt you. Those who love you, have the most power to hurt you. The _Cruciatus_ curse has nothing on the biting words of a loved one.

What did I seek? The small things: Dumbledore's eyes swam with an innocence; the twins' flair to always bring a smile to my face (although it took slightly longer from Fred, of course). And Oliver.

A few letters daily had me opening my heart to him. I told myself it was foolish, that I was being far too naïve, far too trusting far too early on. But the emotion through his words were so…genuine. He didn't have to force comfort like the twins, awkward and fidgety at the first sign of an emotional breakdown or tears. He didn't read my mind and give me cryptic answers before I even realised I had a question to ask.

He was indeed the brother I never had. The brother I never felt I needed. He was my honey: natural and sweet.

So no, I was never really alone. And I don't think I ever would be.

* * *

We spoke of everything: Quidditch, Hogwarts, magical creatures, the muggle world, Harry Potter, Quidditch, the twins, muggle contraptions, Bill, Nanny Anne…did I say Quidditch? Well, he spoke of that most often, as Fred had warned me.

I tried to remember all this as I walked along the streets of Hogsmeade with Fred, George and Lee. They had attempted to distract me with a long trip to Zonkos, far too long, in my opinion, while the girls shopped for shoes and robes. Then, I took the lead as Honeydukes came into my line of sight. The smell of chocolate and sugar bubbled my blood instantly, my mouth watering at the rows upon rows of sweet confectionary. I grabbed handfuls of everything, and then another. The boys had their pranks and humour to remedy their boredom. I had sugar.

Eventually, the boys had to resort to force and dragged me out of the lively store.

"Don't you ever get sick of all that sugar?" Lee had asked.

"Don't you ever get sick of sex?" I retorted.

The twins laughed. Chocolate was my sinful haven, just as orgasms were for the boys.

"We're a bit early so you have plenty of time to prepare yourself, love," George said as we stepped into the Three Broomsticks.

The temporary sugar induced fog in my mind was gone.

"Damn you Weasley, I had forgotten about that. Thanks for not making me anxious or anything."

"It's only Oliver," Fred said.

We seated ourselves on a table, me snuggling against the wall, submerging myself in the shadows. I was bubbling with excitement, eager to meet Oliver yet equally worried. What if he changed his mind when he saw me? Maybe he'd already arrived and bolted the second he saw me, changing his mind and preferring not to be associated with a squib after all. But we had decided on a time to meet, and we were early. No, he wouldn't do that. _Don't go running off scared, I won't start yelling and screaming at you, _he had written in his letter, _I'm just as anxious as you are. But all beginnings to great adventures have to be a mystery, otherwise there's no fun. _He remedied his phrase lines later: _OK, I'm bullshitting, but I need just as much of a prep talk as you!_

I smiled thinking about it.

Lee ordered us some butterbeers.

"What does he look like again?" I asked, my eyes flying around the room at all movement.

"You're being stupid," one of the twins said.

"And you're a twat," I said, craning my neck in an impossible twist to see behind the twin beside me.

"He'll come to us, he knows what we look like. How many times do we have to tell you?"

"Sorry," I murmured. I gave a small smile to the twin beside me. "It's just so nerve wrecking - all this bloody waiting!"

"Actually, he's going to go to you," he said, looking to his brother. "Alicia promised me the afternoon once she finished with the girls."

"But how d'you know she's done?" Lee asked.

George pointed out the window, where Alicia stood, face pressed against the window, her breath fogging up the cold glass. She waved when we looked over.

"Where are the other two?"

"Merlin knows. But I reckon Lee's going to go and find out."

"You read my mind, Weasley," Lee grinned. Him and George both stood, bowed farewell and left.

I sighed, resuming to watch the busy pub. The warmth on the side of my body alerted me to Fred's lingering presence.

"You're not going to leave, are you?" I asked, nudging him with my elbow.

"Nope. 'Fraid you're stuck with me," he replied, finishing off his butterbeer and sliding my untouched mug before him. "You never drink this."

I didn't bother with a response. A tall man entered the pub, catching my attention. He gazed around the pub, loosening the buttons on his robe and unwinding his scarf. It was like magnetism, his eyes meeting mine and instantly knowing.

One thought sounded loudly in my head, clouding all others: Oliver had Bill's eyes.

"Ella Wood," he greeted, his voice lovely and thick with the rich Scottish drawl so similar to Bill's, yet more youthful. He smiled.

"Oliver Wood," I said, my smile mirroring his.

"Fred Weasley."

Oliver laughed, his warm brown eyes turning to Fred. "Indeed you are. I would say nice to see you again, but it's really not. I'm getting a headache from just looking at you."

Fred gasped. "Is that any way to greet an old friend, dear Ollie?"

Oliver chuckled. "Friend is pushing it a bit, wouldn't you say?"

"'Course not, Ollie my boy! Once a Weasley friend, always a Weasley friend."

"Should…should I be happy to hear that?"

I laughed at the easy banter between the boys. I was glad Fred was with me in that moment, for giving the beginning and air of calm. I squeezed his hand in thanks. The beginning's always the hardest.

"Hello, Ella," Oliver said, sitting down opposite us.

"Hello, Oliver."

"It's wonderful to finally meet you. We heard quite a bit from Bill."

"You…what? Bill mentioned me?" I tilted my head to the side, brows furrowed. When had Bill met his family? And why hadn't he mentioned it to me?

"Yeah, 'course he did. He came 'round a few times and showed pictures and everything. Here - I brought one."

From his pocket he pulled out a rectangular photo, frozen in one scene. It was an ordinary photo of me at around nine years old, sitting at the kitchen table with spaghetti slipping off my fork and sauce surrounding my open mouth. Jimmy was propped up against the table, sniffing my plate. I hadn't seen him, my eyes fixed to the camera lens. If I had been paying more attention I would have been able to save the plate before Jimmy nosed it off onto the floor.

My heart lurched. What was the correct feeling? Was there one? I didn't know.

"Look at little Ella! Weren't you just the cutest," Fred grinned.

Beneath the table I felt Fred's warm hand rest over mine.

"Oh Merlin, I started on a bad note didn't I? I'm sorry. Let's go again," Oliver sat up straighter and cleared his throat. "Lovely to meet you Ella. You look nothing like the pictures…Bill…showed us…shit. Bad again. Ok, ok, I got it now. Ella…shit!"

"Always one with words, our Oliver is," Fred informed me, leaning in close.

I laughed; it was the easiest thing to do. "I can tell. It's fine Oliver. Would you like a drink?"

"Right now I'm feeling a firewhiskey but Merlin knows what'll come out of my gob if I do," he chuckled nervously, rubbing his face.

"A bit early for the strong stuff, isn't it Oliver?" Fred quirked an eyebrow.

Oliver blushed. "A butterbeer will have to do."

He made to get up. "Fred will get it."

"I will?"

"Yes, you will. Now go."

Fred wiped away an invisible tear, only moving once I shoved him out of the booth.

"Always thought he was nuts," Oliver commented, filling the silence.

"Oh, he is," I agreed.

"So, you met him in Ottery? What was it – a wizard befriends assumed muggle in muggle town, reunited in a magical school where it's found out she's not a muggle after all? That it?"

"More like that was me and George. Fred only came into the picture once I got here."

"Seriously?" Oliver's eyes bugged open a bit. "You met George without – really? That seems hard to believe."

I shrugged. "It was a shocker."

"Blimey, a bloody big one at that. You'll have to tell me about how that all happened sometime."

I was about to ask why he didn't want to know now, but Fred approached the table. One butterbeer for Oliver, another for him.

"How's Quidditch?" I asked. Fred groaned; Oliver grinned, and I knew I made a mistake.

Oliver, it seemed, could talk not only write about Quidditch a lot, but could discuss it non-stop as well. At one point, I had imagined a troll strolling through the doors and beating him with a club, and still he went on about strategies and players' strengths and weaknesses. It was a harsh thought, but Fred blatantly snoring on the table top topped it.

"Went to the Quidditch World Cup summer last year. Was absolutely insane! Weasley went as well," Oliver said after highlighting the best features of Puddelmere's players and who they would go up against best from other teams.

Fred let out a loud snore. I jabbed him in the ribs none too nicely until he shot up wincing.

"Oliver was just talking about the World Cup. Said you went," I said, ignoring his muttered curses.

"Oh yeah, Ireland and Bulgaria. Wicked game! Shame the Deatheaters ruined it."

Deatheaters? Green flashed behind my eyes. Screams. Cries. Did I hear correctly?

"What Deatheaters?" I asked.

Both boys sat silently, shifting their eyes.

"Well?" I prodded.

"There was an attack, after the game at night. They attacked a muggle family in front of everyone, walked through the land with them hanging in the air. They used the dark mark," Oliver explained, his voice forced calm.

No response came from my frozen lips. Why were there death eaters at the World Cup? What muggle family? Were they alright? Did they find who did it? Did –?

"I'm sorry, I thought you knew," Oliver said. I shook my head.

"It's ok. I just…never expected that."

Fred's hand had made it onto mine somewhere during the conversation again – probably during Oliver's crazed Quidditch monologue – and he squeezed.

"Do you know how many Deatheaters there were?"

"Too many to count," Fred said, taking a swig from his butterbeer. "Everything was chaos, people running and screaming every which way. It was terrible."

Oliver grumbled an agreement. "I was with my parents. Luckily we apparated away in time."

"What's that?"

"Apparating? It's like...you know, it's - uh, what you do is think hard on a place, and then..." Oliver fumbled for an appropriate response, but was finding it difficult. "It's basically twisting on the spot and disappearing then reappearing wherever you were thinking."

"So transporting yourself elsewhere," I smirked.

"Well...yes."

"Destination, determination and deliberation," Fred chanted, winking. "How many times did you splinch yourself before passing again?"

Oliver flushed red, and murmured, "Three."

"Why do you people have to be so cryptic. What's splinching?" I should have been annoyed at being behind on all the seemingly common knowledge of the wizarding world, but being able to learn it as opposed to not having known it at all, leaving it behind the snowy curtain of my past, was so liberating that I would have eagerly listened to them all day.

"When you lose a bit of your body," Fred said.

My eyes widened and I inspected Oliver, much to the boys' amusement.

"I'm better now, obviously. Splinching during lessons just means I had to retake the test before getting my license."

"At least you could have apparated, we had to wait for it to pass before getting a portkey back home."

Fred's words brought me back to the Quidditch World Cup. I knew what a portkey was, having used one before with Bill and Nanny Anne when we went to the seaside. You couldn't forget a feeling as intense as being pulled through a tiny tube from my stomach. It was an odd reminder of being born, and I felt a twinge of sympathy for the hole.

"Bill wasn't there that night, was he?" I asked, although fearing the answer.

"No, he wasn't there," Oliver said. "He probably went after, I'm not sure."

I wanted to ask what Bill was doing when he was away from me, away from the muggle world. I was dying to know – I needed to know.

"What did Bill do? When he was out there, with other wizards?"

He played with his empty tumbler. "I don't know. I never knew. All I did know was that when Dumbledore called, he went running. He was willing to risk his life for whatever Dumbledore said. Never gave anything a second thought."

"This is certainly turning out to be a pleasant first meeting, isn't it now?" Oliver chuckled.

This man, Oliver, so like Bill, with his brown eyes, dark hair and pointed ears, the same face, young and unmarred. I could have thought of a thousand reasons not to believe him, to accuse him of knowing everything but hiding it from me. But I didn't. This man, so like Bill, had the same honesty in his eyes, and sincerity in his words.

And so I trusted him.

"Who won?"

Fred and Oliver looked up.

"The World Cup. Who won?"

"Ireland. But Krum got the snitch."

Krum. Viktor Krum. Viktor Krum, the Triwizard champion from Durmstrang.

"He plays professional Quidditch?"

Fred beat Oliver, responding quickly. "Yup, the very one. Won me and George that bet, he did: Ireland for the win with Krum snatching the snitch." He scowled upon the mention of the bet. His narrowed eyes and bared teeth gave his handsome features an ugly quality. It was gone in a heartbeat.

"Who did you bet with?" Oliver asked.

"Bagman," Fred grumbled.

George and Alicia returned just then, flushed from the cold and God knows what intimate deed they engaged in, and sat down beside Oliver. "What's this about the smarmy git I hear?"

"Nothing," Fred said.

"Hello, Oliver, nice seeing you again," Alicia smiled.

"Likewise, Spinnet."

"Still doing that surname thing I see," George said.

"Could have done without seeing you today, Weasley," Oliver retorted.

"Ouch."

"Harsh."

"Unbelievably so."

"I get the feeling he doesn't appreciate us, don't you brother dear?"

"Indeed, Gred."

I rolled my eyes.

"Boy, do I feel sorry for you, Ella, having to deal with these twits."

I giggled. "Poor Alicia!"

"Yes, Ella did mention in a letter you two were together." He lifted an eyebrow, turning to his former Chaser. "I don't want to know. Spinnet, I'm sure your head will be better once you've finished the end of year exams. Hopefully then you'll have your sense back."

Fred guffawed. "Oh-ho-ho, hear that Georgie? Miss Spinnet's only with you because she's not all there."

George's neck burned pink, slowly growing into red. His flushing skin did not deter from his ego. "I seem to have that effect on the ladies. It's a side effect of being around me: speechlessness, loss of coherent thought, weak limbs, racing heartbeat. What can I say?"

Alicia rolled her eyes and smacked his arm hard. He jumped back. "Weak limbs, was it?"

"What are you two even doing here? Shouldn't you be finishing your date?" Fred asked.

"Puddifoot's was packed so we decided to come here and say hello to Oliver."

Fred and Oliver had identical looks of horror. "Puddifoot's?" They gasped together.

George snickered. "Of course not you dolts. Can you imagine me going in there?"

"Nor me! What do you take me for?" Alicia grumbled. George slapped a noisy kiss onto her cheek.

"Right then, love, I think we should continue our date elsewhere, in private preferably, seeing as we're not wanted here." George stood, pulling Alicia with him.

"Bye, Ollie! Nice seeing you again!" Alicia said as George dragged her out of the pub.

"I should be going too now," Oliver said, checking his watch.

"Do you have to?" I regretted asking as soon as the words were out, fearful that I sounded like a clingy child. I tried not to look too disappointed.

He smiled in response. "'Fraid so – I need to make a quick stop and then head off to practice. I'll owl you as soon as I'm finished. You're still thinking about it, right?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Good. I'll see you around then. Next Hogsmeade weekend?"

"Sounds great."

Pushing Fred out of the booth, I slid myself out and crossed over to Oliver as he finished buttoning his robe, engulfing his tall frame in a hug. His scent had an underlying tone of Bill.

"Thank you," I mumbled into the thick fabric of his robe.

"Nothing for you to thank."

He pulled away. With a final wave and a nod to Fred, he exited the pub. I sat back down beside Fred and rested my head on his shoulder, savouring the contentment from the blissful encounter in the buzzing room.

"We've still got loads of time. Care to go out and spend the rest of the day with me?"

Fred didn't wait for me to reply. He held my hand firmly and ran outside into the chilly winds.

* * *

It was nearing the end of March when they came down to the kitchen and begged me for what could have been the thousandth time to go up with them for dinner. But this time, they were more persistent.

"You need to get out of here!" George said, following me around the kitchen as I maneuvered around the house elves.

"I don't need to do anything of the sort," I snapped, my voice thick with mucus lodged in my throat. Exposed to the harsh Spring chill in Hogsmeade had given me something of a cold, the weather alternating between freezing and light sunshine in true British form.

"Do it for us then, as an early birthday present," Fred pleaded, appearing in front of me.

"No," I said, moving past him.

"Ella!" they both whined.

I sighed. "I don't want to see them."

"They won't get near to you, we swear it."

My eyes met identical blue eyes. I looked between them. I shut my eyes. "I hate you two, _so_ much."

They jumped and high fived, linking an arm in each of mine and skipping out the kitchen.

Upon entering the Great Hall, I squeezed myself between the brothers and shuffled forward with them. With difficulty in my jumbled limbs, I sat down on the bench, Fred beside me and George opposite him beside his younger brother and Alicia. Looking up, I noticed Dumbledore sending a small wink my way. I smiled in return.

It was with a jab from Fred that I filled my plate with the assortment of food laid out, listening to the conversations around me. It was odd, having so many different voices speaking of different topics all at once. The group of Gryffindor sixth years caught a lot of attention with their rambunctious stories and the flicking of undesirable vegetables. On more than one occasion I found myself curtaining my hair over my face to avoid any attention. Every time I did, Fred would rub his hand on my leg comfortingly. It would have been a kind gesture had he not forced me to come to dinner with them. I had plenty of food in the kitchen, there was no need for me with them. Or rather, they could have easily eaten in the kitchen if they so pleased.

As the attention reduced somewhat I pushed my hair behind my ear, freeing my face once more. Straight ahead of me at a distance were golden eyes.

I had never seen gold eyes before. Brown with gold flecks in them, yes – like Hermione Granger who had made it something of a habit to visit the house elves in the kitchen and attempt to dissuade them from doing their work without any wages. But pure golden was a rarity. And it was beautiful. Mesmerising. Magnetic.

I don't know how long I stared. It was Fred who snapped me out of the daze, his pea hitting me squarely on the nose. Whispers hissed low in my ear (_stupid squib…disgrace…abomination…_), gradually increasing in volume until the conversations around me blurred. Something about a boyfriend being too clingy, new underwear from Witch Weekly, the lack of options for a vegetarian...

The pounding in my ears became too much, like a balloon ready to burst. I fixed my eyes on Fred's worried gaze. I shook my head, barely.

And then I ran.

Run isn't really what I managed, though – it would have attracted too much attention. I stumbled over the bench, limped a few steps and hurriedly walked out the Great Hall. I didn't make it to my destination; my legs gave out just as I passed the doors, forcing me to lean against the wall to stay upright. I breathed in lungfuls of air, attempting to clear my sinuses from the stuffiness of the Great Hall.

"Ella?"

I expected to see Fred.

It was not Fred.

"Ella," he called again, slowly moving towards me. "Are you alright? What's wrong?"

His gold eyes, pools of liquid gold, rich and sweet.

Breathe in…breathe out…breathe in…

"You don't look so good," Darren said, frowning. The back of his hand was cool against my forehead. "You're burning up. Maybe we should get you to –"

"Oi! Move away from her!"

Darren's hand was gone. Fred had pushed him against the wall, his wand poised to his chest.

"Don't you dare touch her again, dirty snake."

"Fred –"

"I wouldn't have had to if you prioritised her," Darren said, stanch in the face of a hundred different possible threats pointed at him.

"Don't you try and act all high and mighty. Not after what you did." Fred's face was fixed in an ugly scowl, his handsome features hardening.

"And what is it I did? Hm?"

Fred's lips thinned impossibly into nothing.

"Fred," I called out again, regaining my breath. Black spots were beginning to invade my vision.

"Leave," he ordered, backing away from Darren but keeping his wand steady.

"I want to take her to Madame Pomfrey."

Fred laughed. It was dark and hollow. "Like hell you are."

"She's sick. She needs to see Madame Pomfrey."

"Then I'll take her. You're not to go near her again."

Darren's fist balled up beside him. He twisted his wrists as if to loosen them.

"I want to talk to her."

"Oh, get it through your _fat_ skull already!"

"Please, just a few minutes and I'll be gone. I swear." Darren edged his way in my direction, ever so slowly, like an animal escaping its predator.

"Oi! Stay away."

"Fred, don't –"

The black spots swimming in my vision blocked out what happened, but I heard perfectly. Someone falling. A cry.

And then I was out.


	23. Relationships

**As always, thank you all so much for the support, whether it be follows/favourites/reviews. **

* * *

23\. Relationships

* * *

Nanny Anne once said that to dream of flying means good luck will come your way, to dream falling means that the dreamer feels out of control in their real life, or if their life is going downhill. But the true definition was different to everyone, and not all people fall, some are pushed. Interpretations.

To understand these meanings we would go to the library and read up on all the varying elucidations from different cultures, receiving bemused gazes from the other townspeople for looking up ancient superstitions in the modern world where science answered all. It was almost amusing, the contradictions of the same images.

I dreamt of home, in Ottery St. Catchpole. There was a quiet noise in the background; a party, perhaps, or the old television. But, as always in a dream, the beginning was always lost in the haze of deep slumber. It was the dead of night, I was sure of it, but the sky was bright in its darkness, the moon large and white as I stood in my open window in a pale nightdress. I felt light, almost as if the breeze would carry me away at any moment.

And then I was flying. There were no angel wings, no broomstick to aid me. I flew over the small village in the sweet air of the clouds, until I found my destination.

It was a tall house in the middle of a field, crooked to the point where I feared it would tilt to its doom from a feathers touch on the wrong side. I had never seen the house before, not in my real life with my real eyes, but everything about it was clear to me. There was only one light on, several stories up. As I got closer, a figure emerged in the window, tall and thin. Instinctively, I flew to him.

Wrinkles marred his beautiful freckled face, crinkled into a thousand lines as he grinned, his eyes sparkling as they always had, his hair white and thinning on his head, almost as if it had slipped down onto his face and chin like an ice cream on a hot summer's day. Despite his aged looks, he looked as cheeky as ever, youthful even. He held out a hand to me. Two words whispered from his mouth and echoed around the sky.

I reached my hand out for his, equally creased, only slightly fatter. Our fingertips grazed and then parted, the distance between us growing. I was falling. It wasn't a steep fall, like from the top of a mountain to my instant death. It was slow, the pressure on my stomach dragging out the pain. His eyes followed me as I fell, his hand never retracting. The two words buzzed in the air around us, cushioning my fall like the clouds surrounding me as I flew. His face blurred the further I fell.

"My Ella."

I didn't feel the fall; I never did. I awoke to a pain in my stomach, heavier than the pain in the dream. I leaned over onto my side and heaved, the sound disgusting to my ears, the smell nauseating, sickening me further. Hands gathered my hair and patted my back, cooing softly into my ear. When I had nothing left to throw up but hot air, I sat up.

"Fred?"

"Oh dear, fainting outside the Great Hall straight after dinner. No wonder you're sick. You should have come here sooner," Madam Pomfrey chastised, patting me finally on the back and shuffling bottles on the side table. "Here, drink some of this, it'll settle your stomach."

She held the spoon to my face, brimmed in a gooey liquid. I pinched my nose and swallowed the potion, gagging as it oozed down my throat.

"That was vile," I croaked.

"It is medicine, not sweets. It's not made for pleasuring the taste buds," she said, taking the bottle away to her supply cupboard. "You can leave as soon as you are steady on your feet." Madam Pomfrey left to her office without a look back.

I fell back on the bed and closed my eyes. I had dreamt, I was sure of it. Flying and falling, and a man. I tried to remember the rest.

"Ella!"

The layered voices overlapping one another in perfect synchronisation alerted me to the twins' presence.

"Hey," I coughed, the bitter taste lingering on my tongue.

"Why didn't you tell us you were sick?" George asked. They were sitting beside me, identical expressions of worry and relief.

"We wouldn't have guilt tripped you into coming to dinner with us."

"I didn't feel so bad at the time. Sorry."

"Well, that's a dinner gone to waste," Fred said, frowning at the place the bucket had been moments ago.

"Good thing she didn't get a start on dessert then."

"Oi, you followed me out the Great Hall. And Darren was there, what happened?" I asked, the confrontation shooting to the forefront of my mind.

"He followed you out first, said he wanted to talk to you," Fred said.

"And then you came out. Then what?"

George chortled, receiving and elbow in the ribs from a grinning Fred. He was terrible at hiding his jubilation.

"What?"

"Darren wanted to bring you to the hospital wing, said you were burning up or something. I wasn't going to have him anywhere near you, not after what happened before…"

"So Freddie punched him."

"You did what?!"

"Hey, he was going to –"

"You don't know what he was going to do! He said he wanted to talk, what's wrong with that?"

"Talk about what, how much he despises squibs? How he thinks you're a disgrace? He shouldn't have the chance to even say hello." George said, siding with his brother and frowning, his voice angry.

"You didn't have to hit him though," I sighed; I didn't want to fight with them. "Is he alright at least?"

Fred scoffed.

"I don't see why you're bothered about him, but yeah, he's fine. Brought him along as well and Poppy fixed him up."

"Poppy?"

"Pomfrey," they answered.

I shouldn't have been surprised; trust those boys to be cheeky with the female staff, regardless of their age. God knows how they acted around McGonagall. An image came to mind of them winking at her in the middle of lesson after giving an indecent response to the task of transfiguring a glass ball parchment-weight into a handkerchief, receiving a detention from the stern witch in return.

"Thank you," I said.

Both boys smiled. "Welcome."

"Can we go now? I'm kind of hungry."

"Being sick would do that to you," George grinned.

Fred and George hopped out of their seats, helping me up. There was a card on the table, with one word on it. The writing was small and neat, disjoined and capitalised. I didn't recognise it.

_SORRY._

I realised I distinguished the twins perfectly.

* * *

It was later in the week towards the end of the Easter holidays that someone other than the Weasley twins or Lee entered the kitchen. I was glad; I needed to catch up on my studies without their distractions. Her hair was wild on her head and her face red. The house elves that saw her hushed and hid away.

"Hermione," I called out from where I was sitting by the fire, a large tome on my lap.

Her mutterings stopped and she looked over. "Oh, hello Ella."

She appeared stumped as to what to say. That made the two of us.

"Are you alright? You seem a bit angry."

The young girl huffed, her hair electrified like a mane. "I'm frustrated. Do you read Witch Weekly? That horrid Rita Skeeter made up an article – completely untrue, by the way – and the entire female population of not only Hogwarts but the wizarding world seems to hate me now. I mean, really! The nerve of that woman. And the lengths these…these…petty girls will go to. Honestly!"

I didn't read the Witch Weekly; I had no idea what she was going on about. But hearing the name Rita Skeeter told me all I needed to know – nothing remotely positive. The woman had a horrid reputation for twisting words to aid the gossips of the wizarding world. It was a wonder people even believed her. After the whole escapade with Hagrid, I was undoubtedly against the dogmatic witch.

I noticed Hermione's small hands, bandaged.

"What did she write that was so awful?"

Hermione sat down. "Only that I was a scarlet woman, pursuing and playing with both Viktor Krum and Harry. And get this: Love Potions is what I've been accused of using. Preposterous! I mean, I expected that rubbish from her, but the hate mail!"

"Is that what happened to your hands?" I asked, sympathetic to the girl who looked to be on the verge of breaking down.

She kept her head down when she nodded, playing with her fingers. "Undiluted Bubotuber pus."

I winced. From my knowledge of Herbology, that was nasty stuff.

"Can't have been nice," I said.

"It wasn't. It's a lot better now though. What's worse is that Mrs Weasley believes that rubbish."

My eyebrows raised. For all the years shared with George he hadn't much mentioned his mother, just small things like her amazing cooking, her stern and bossy manner and loud voice. That, and her ability to push out seven children and still have energy to moan to the twins constantly despite them looming over her 'shortness that is paralleled to a goblin, much like her angry face' – George's words. But from all had I had gathered, I never would have her pegged her down for believing in magazine rumours.

"Well, for what it's worth, I certainly don't hate you. And those girls? Insanely petty and jealous. I mean, you're best friends with Harry Potter, on good terms with Viktor Krum, smarter than every single student I bet, and super pretty. They're intimidated by you."

Hermione peeked out of her hair, a small smile evident, although she looked doubtful.

"You know, the only time I ever felt pretty was at the Yule Ball. I had an amazing time with Viktor and forgot about worrying about Harry and Ron. And even then it didn't last long. Someone always seems to go out of their way to make me miserable."

"Who was it then?"

"Ron."

"Typical Weasley," I scoffed. She giggled. "Those twins aren't any better, I tell you."

"Did you go to the ball?"

I shook my head, not in the least bit uncomfortable about sharing my woes with the fourth year. "I did get invited, but it turned out he wasn't so open minded about my squib status as I first thought. And the twins…let's just say their temper borderlines on hormonal pregnant women."

She laughed. "Weasley temper, I guess. Ginny's got it too."

"Yep. But they can hold it in sometimes. And they don't hold grudges for very long."

"They are good at that, aren't they? Being happy and joyful, always joking. It's remarkable. Don't tell them I said that."

"Your guilty pleasure is safe with me," I winked, glad that my attempt at cheering her up worked. I wasn't much of a comforter; I got awkward easily and, at best, could offer hugs. But I had never needed to comfort someone as much as before now, and it felt good.

"I would have thought one of the twins would have asked you to the ball, Fred presumably. Speaking of the twins, have you noticed anything off with them lately? I know it's not any of my business but, it's just…"

"Yes?"

"I saw them earlier. In the Owlery. They're blackmailing someone. Do you know anything about this?"

This news came shocking to me. The boys had never let anything on that something was happening, not something bad enough for them to blackmail others, at least. I went over as many of the conversations we had of them moaning about people.

"No, I had no idea. They haven't told me anything," I admitted. What could they possibly be blackmailing someone about? And who?

"Oh. I see. Sorry to bring it up, they were just acting a bit suspicious. Which isn't anything surprising, honestly – those two are always sneaking around doing something, I've guessed partly you at times."

My lips twitched at her words. She must have noticed, for she gasped with widened eyes and covered her mouth.

"Oh my gosh – I'm so sorry…I- I didn't mean they were _doing_ you! It's just – I meant –"

"Hermione!" her face burning red only made me laugh harder. "I understand, no worries. Nothing on that level happening though, in case you were wondering."

She groaned and slumped in her seat. Not one to discuss topics sexually related, I guess.

Fizzy appeared next to me with a sandwich.

"Here is Miss Ella's lunch. You missed it again, Miss," she said, grinning. It was an exaggeration, of course; I had been busy procrastinating to be too distracted to eat. I had perhaps only missed a total of two lunches over the weeks. That, according to the house elves, was far too many.

"I'm sorry, Fizz. I had to get this done; time must've slipped me. Sorry."

"No problems, Miss Ella. Enjoy!"

And she disappeared again. I took a bite out of the chicken sandwich and licked the sauce from my lips. Hermione was frowning at me. Spew. Damn.

"You're ok with them serving you?" she asked.

"Hermione, it's not how you think it is. I understand where you're coming from – I do, I'm from a world where people were racially enslaved as well, remember? But this is different," I tried to reason. Hermione wasn't having any of it.

"It's because they have been indoctrinated into believing it! They don't know anything else because they haven't had the chance."

Her hands lay clasped in her lap, her back straight, her gaze fierce. Internally, I groaned. She was just getting started.

* * *

The Gryffindor common room was lively with students basking in the last free time before the arrival of the summer term. In the boys' dorm was where I found out that George and Alicia had broken up.

"Wait, go over that again. Because from what I heard that made absolutely _no_ sense."

They had finished advertising and selling some of their products and then dragged me upstairs away from the ears of their housemates. The mess astonished me; every surface was covered in parchment or items of clothing and sweet wrappers. Empty bottles of butterbeer and ink pots littered the floor. The boys were unperturbed by the clutter and laughed when I almost sat on one of their boxers; clean or dirty, I did not know. Apparently, the house elves were on a break from cleaning their dorm after a recurring incident that had begun in their third year.

"We just…didn't want to anymore," George said, flicking through a Quidditch magazine on his bed.

"You both or just you?"

"Both of us, of course! What kind of bloke do you take me for?" he scowled.

I didn't bother with a response. I would have lifted an eyebrow in an are-you-serious face but realised it would have had no other effect than to arouse laughter.

"When did it happen?"

"This morning, before breakfast."

"How?"

"Bloody hell, since when do you gossip?" Lee said, being the only decent one to attempt to clear up around his bed. He picked up a sock, held it up to his nose and grimaced. "Oi, whose is this?"

The twins grumbled.

"I'm curious. If you want I can just go and ask her myself."

"There wasn't a fight if that's what you're wondering," Fred said, upside down on the edge of his bed. I forced my eyes away from the patch of skin uncovered by his shirt slipping down.

"Of course not!"

"Oh, shut it. We were very civil, Ella, I pulled her away as soon as we got to the common room, waited for everyone to leave and then asked her how she felt. Then we broke up," George answered.

"But I don't understand why! You two were perfect," I said.

"No we weren't, Ella, we're teenagers. We don't fall in love, we have sex and then we get bored. Then we both move on."

"Not everyone is like that," I said. I don't know why I did, because I didn't know of a single person who had fallen in love as a teenager and remained with that person forever. But there had to be someone.

"We've had girlfriends before, s'not like Alicia was his first," Fred said, sitting up at last. His face was red and his hair neat and tidy in the mini bun I arranged at the nape of his neck. His hair was getting longer, making it easier for the band to stay. Several times I had found myself playing with his hair whenever we were seated together. All those times I used the excuse of disentangling the knots to tie it up.

"Yeah, like Fred and Angelina's week long relationship," Lee chortled.

"That wasn't even a relationship, that was friends with benefits," George grinned.

"Not beneficial enough, if you ask me," Fred said.

"You boys are disgusting."

"Cheers," the three chorused.

I rolled my eyes.

"What about you, Ella?" Lee asked.

"What about me?"

"I know you're only a year younger than us but we've never – or I've never, heard about any boyfriend from you. Spill."

"Who's the gossip now?" I refrained from fidgeting under their scrutiny.

"Come to think of it, I've never even heard anything about that," George said, disposing his magazine by flinging it across the room and sitting up.

"That's because there was nothing to be said on the matter."

They raised their eyebrows.

"What – no boyfriend? Ever?"

"Have you been kissed?"

"Ever given a blowjob?"

We all turned to Lee with looks of revulsion.

"Sorry," he murmured, and returned to sorting through his items.

I sighed. "No boyfriend, kissed Nate, and certainly no blowjob."

"Whoa whoa, wait a minute! You kissed Nate?" George asked. "Your friend from Ottery Nate? The boy two years older than you?"

I understood how Hermione had felt then in the kitchen. But this was worse – this discussion was with me and three immature teenage boys.

"It was a dare."

George laughed, a full belly laugh as he rolled on his bed. Fred quirked an eyebrow at his brother, then mouthed to me: "Who's Nate?"

I shrugged. In the common room I had observed the twins as they conversed with the other Gryffindors, selling their jokes and pranks. I made to pinpoint every detail about them, trying to find patent features that differentiated them. Ever since my awakening in the hospital wing I was able to make out which was Fred and which was George, but I found myself watching Fred more. There was a sense of discomfort when his eyes met mine as I was doing so; he would wink, as if catching me out but not caring. It was a smug wink. Even in their dorm I had sat myself far away from him, my arm burning from where it had rubbed against him as we walked up the stairs.

The feeling was familiar, but I shrugged it off. Repeatedly, I chanted in my head: _I do not fancy Fred Weasley._

"That's priceless," George said through the ending breaths of his dying laughter. He wiped at his eyes and sighed.

"Is it a muggle thing?" Lee asked, finally giving up on clearing the piles of rubbish and sitting beside Fred. "Not having boyfriends or girlfriends when you're a teenager?"

"Mate, your mum's a muggle, you should know," Fred pointed out.

"Only child. And she doesn't talk about her teenage years much. Can't say I'd like to hear it either," Lee shuddered.

The conversation carried on for a while, the boys fascinated by the sexual explorations of the muggle world. I could hardly contain my embarrassment when they moved onto sex positions and explained it visually, spreading their legs out, kneeling, thrusting and panting. It reminded me that away from the eyes of others, they were normal hormonal teenage boys. And then the sudden realisation that I was one of the boys came to me, resulting in me shooting up from my seat and saying a quick goodbye before leaving their dorm and escaping to the common room where, fortunately, the girls were sitting.

I had expected Alicia to be somewhat saddened from her recent break up with George – she didn't strike me much as a girl who had many boyfriends despite her gorgeous looks. So it was surprising to see upon walking to their circle her laughing uproariously.

"Ella!" Katie said being the first to notice me. The other girls greeted as enthusiastically.

"Hi. What are you guys doing?" I asked, taking the proffered seat beside Angelina.

"Discussing Katie's lover," Angelina sang, laughing louder when a cushion flew past her face.

"He's not my lover! We just…owl a bit," Katie blushed.

"Oh yeah? I recall you meeting him last Hogsmeade weekend."

"Only for a few minutes, he had somewhere to be."

"Lasted only a few minutes, did he?" Alicia and Angelina burst into a new round of laughter. Katie, never one to be too embarrassed, giggled lightly, the redness in her cheeks dulling to a pale pink.

"Why is everyone talking about sex today?" My groan, I soon found, was too loud, as the girls had conveniently calmed down by the time I spoke. Half the common room had heard and turned to look.

"Who else was talking about it?" Katie asked.

"The Troublesome Trio, who else?"

"Those boys are always horny," Angelina rolled her eyes. "I swear, if their mum ever found out what they got up to…"

"Hell would open up on earth," Alicia nodded grimly, seemingly unfazed by the topic of her ex-boyfriend's sex life.

"I thought you were busying studying for your exams?"

My attempt at changing the subject was a success, as the girls moved onto discuss their subjects and upcoming exams. The most dreaded exam was, as expected, Potions, followed closely by Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Transfiguration. Hearing of the sixth years and fifth year workload made me anxious for my exams; I had no idea what levels I would be entered into. So far I was studying the first two years of all my subjects and had been doing fairly well. But the closer the time got to exams, the more anxious I get. And the more anxious I get, my brain just shuts down.

Throughout the discussion the thought of Fred and Angelina being ex-friends with benefits played in my mind. I shrugged it off the first few times, thinking Angelina and Fred made an odd couple, one that could be predicted to always argue without the aid of Divination. The acts presented to me in their dorms however, irked me somewhat. And, against my better judgement, I had pictured Angelina underneath Fred's ministrations.

My stomach churned for thinking that. And then the trio appeared, Fred jumping over the sofa, landing between me and Angelina.

We stayed like that for an hour or so until I grew tired. My head was resting comfortably on Fred's shoulder when he nudged me up.

"Come on, I'll walk you down to the kitchen," he stood and pulled me up. "I'll bring up some pastries," he said to the others, waving a goodbye.

"Wait, I'll come with you," George said.

"Nah, mate, we'll be fine. You stay with Lee and work on that thing I told you about."

George looked confused. "What thing?"

But Fred didn't answer. He rushed the last few steps out of the portrait hole, yelling out a, "Bye!" The corridors were quiet as we walked down to the kitchen. Normally, I would have inspected every corner I walked past, every flickering shadow from the candles in case it was my sister or Darren preparing to hex me, but my fatigue overpowered any rational thought, and I leant against Fred as we descended the stairs.

He was oddly silent too, noticing my drooping eyes and allowing me some peace, or his thoughts busy.

He took me straight to my dorm and sat down beside me on my bed, hugging me to his side. Sleep was just within my reach when Fred spoke.

"You said my name first."

"Huh?"

"When you woke up in the hospital wing, you said my name first. Why?"

"Oh. I don't know, it just came out."

He was looking down at me with bright eyes. I couldn't read his face. He was good at that.

"If I asked you to come out to Hogsmeade with me what would you say?"

"There's no Hogsmeade weekend for a while."

All thoughts of sleep were gone, my brain wide awake now. I chanted in my head again.

He chuckled. "You really expect me to only go out on Hogsmeade weekends? Please, I'm a Weasley twin."

"So…what are you saying?"

I only now realised his fingers trailing my arm. Even through the jumper separating our skin my arm warmed.

"Tomorrow evening."

"Is George going to be there?"

"Well, I've never gone out on a date with George involved as well. Can't say it's something I want to start now either," he grinned.

"A – a date?"

"Yes, a date. You know, an activity two people do together to get to know each other better." Fred spoke as if I was a five year old. I was too shocked to retaliate.

"But we already know each other."

Ever so slightly the grin on Fred's face slipped. His fingers stopped. "So that's a no then," he stated. Fred chortled gruffly and shook his head.

"I never said that," I said, stalling his movements. "I'm merely pointing out that that's a rubbish explanation."

"How about I give you a better one on our date?"

The fairies in my stomach doubled their efforts in flapping their wings. I wanted to laugh from the absurdity of it all. It took a moment for me to digest - Fred Weasley asking me out on a date. The thought of fancying George played in my mind, but I was over that, he was just a very good friend. But Fred...as much as he had irked me when we first met, he made me laugh like no one else, brightened my day with that silly smile of his. He was sweet, and cocky, and crude, and cheeky, and protective, and wonderful.

I let slip a smile. "Deal."

"Great." His grin warmed my stomach, like a warm and gooey chocolate cake. He brought a hand up to my face, the tips of his fingers barely grazing my skin. He strode out the dorm with a wink, leaving a tingle on my cheek from his lips that remained throughout the night.

* * *

Nanny Anne once said that to dream of flying means good luck will come your way, to dream of falling means that the dreamer feels out of control in their real life, or if their life is going downhill. But the true definition was different to everyone, and not all people fall, some are pushed.

Interpretations.

To dream of being old means acquiring knowledge and wisdom.

To dream of flying from your house to a man's that you know, means you will marry him.

But to dream of flying from a known abode into an unknown, means death.


	24. Over Too Soon

**Little soppy chapter. I honestly cannot believe I did this all today. I just had a burst of inspiration and had to get it down and uploaded.**

**Thank you so so much to every single reviewer/follower/favouriter/reader that doesn't tell me what they think of this story (you still amaze me with your views!)**

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24\. Over Too Soon

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Nervous energy fuelled me throughout the day accompanied by sweaty palms and a swollen lip. Questions clamped my lungs by the minute: where are we going? What am I supposed to wear? Should I eat before we leave? What are we going to be doing? When is he going to bloody come down?

Unfortunately, the gentleman known as Fred Weasley did not show up during the day, thus my questions and worries were left unanswered. Not even the Gryffindor girls had graced me with their presence and their knowledge on dates.

Over the months since his arrival, Dobby volunteered to serve the Weasley twins in their laundry and dorm cleaning, to which all the other house elves hastily agreed, however, he had off days where their dorm was just too much, even for him. He had been apparating in and out of the kitchen throughout the day, returning with arms full of clothes and sweets, alerting me to his stop at the twins' dorm. It seemed the only opportunity I would have, soI approached him in the middle of him washing bright pink and purple socks and leaned back against the wall.

"Alright there, Dobby?" I asked, smiling down at the humming house elf.

"Yes, Miss Ella. Dobby enjoys washing Weasley's socks in the bubbles," he said, dunking the clothes deeper into the tub of bubbles. It was no secret that Dobby relished in washing laundry by hand rather than magic – he had a thing for bubbles.

"That's a lot of clothes you have. Are they all from the twins' room?"

"Yes, them all. Mister Jordan's as well."

"They never have this many clothes to wash all at once. What on earth are they doing?" I asked.

He opened his mouth, ready to reply, and then closed it quickly. As fast as a seeker his eyes widened and he abandoned his washing momentarily.

"Miss Ella is going on a date with Mister Weasley!" Dobby yelled.

"Er – yes, yes I am, Dobby. Has Fred said anything about it?"

"Oh – Miss Ella is going to love tonight!" he twirled on the spot, close to collapsing into the large peak of bubbles. I grabbed his shoulders and bent low, face to face with him.

"Dobby," I said, abandoning my untailored pretence. "Has Fred mentioned to you – or have you heard – anything about tonight's date?"

The creature grinned, his large tennis ball eyes slitting into a Weasley twin like mischievous stare.

"Dobby will say this, Miss: the date will be superfandastic!"

Once he had finished his pile of washing, he apparated away and did not return until just before dinner.

Bonnie, being the perceptive house elf who knew me better than all the others, noticed my stumbling and mumbling around the kitchen and suggested I have a relaxing bath to calm my nerves. The clock on the wall showed that it was nearing the end of dinner, yet the house elves carried on their scurrying in the kitchen. A sigh left my lips, and I took a plate of meat and vegetables with me to the bathroom, thinking it best to eat if we would not be doing so on our date.

It was weird to think: going on a date with Fred Weasley, I thought as I stripped off my clothes, damp from all the apprehensions, and slid into the warm bubbly bath. Instantly, the tension was eased away by the vanilla smelling foam. I submerged myself into the water and arose once my hair was soaked. Just like George, he did not seem to take much seriously. He often had artistic doodles all over his parchment where homework should have been written, crude depictions of Snape in frilly dresses being blown by the wind, or Trelawney's large bug eyes growing and growing until they popped into hundreds of fireworks. He teased his younger brother Ron mercilessly up until his face was as red as the Gryffindor common room. The only time he had been deadly serious was when he confronted Darren.

The porcelain tub untouched by the water was cool against my upper back as I started on my dinner. I took small nibbles, relishing in the relaxation I so desperately needed, glad to finally make use of the bath charmed to stay as hot as I liked. My concerns on the date seemed trivial in the cloud of steam glazing my senses.

The door swung open and in walked a pair deep into conversation. A shriek escaped me, my hands dropping the plate and instinctively moving over my covered body.

"What are you doing in here?" I screamed at the laughing red heads, sinking lower into the bath.

"Sorry!" Fred yelled, pulling George to turn around and face the opposite wall as well, small chuckles escaping them. "Dobby said you were waiting in your dorm."

"I could have been getting changed!"

"You aren't. So no problem!" George swivelled his head to grin at me, only moving back when Fred slapped him.

"No problem? I'm in the bath – naked!"

"Really?" they both drawled.

"Why are you in the bath anyway? We do have a date, you know."

"Why am I – Why are _you_ in here? Uh, no, shut up! Get out!"

The twins exited without another word until the door was shut.

"Hurry up and get ready, we're on a schedule," Fred said.

My hands glided over my face, rubbing away my embarrassment. I peered down and almost choked on the stuffy air. The water may have been charmed to stay at a certain temperature, but the bubbles were not, I realised, watching what once was a mountain of bubbles reduced to spots of ant hills, fortunately, covering the more intimate parts of my body. I was sure my face was burning a remarkable shade of red.

"Oi, have you drowned yourself?"

"No," I growled. "Tell Bonnie to get me some clothes ready on your way out of my dorm."

No response was given. I climbed out of the bath and quickly dried myself off with a towel and wrapped it around myself, inhaling largely before peering out the door to see an empty dorm. If possible, I was even more on edge than before.

The boys were seated on a bench at one of the tables, the house elves walking around aimlessly or sitting around them.

"Thank you for the clothes, Bonnie," I smiled as she passed.

"It was no problem, Miss. You look wonderful," she said, hugging me around the knees.

I approached the twins after returning Bonnie's hug. They were in deep discussion and did not notice my arrival until I tapped one on the shoulder, successfully silencing them as they stood.

"I thought you said you don't go on dates with George?" I said, attempting to stifle my embarrassment.

"Always a first for everything," George said, winking.

"Well then, if that's the case…" my foot made to take a step back but Fred's hand on mine stopped all movement.

"George, you can piss off now," Fred said.

"I'm wounded brother!"

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks for bringing him safely here, George."

"That's more like it! Now then, onto the more serious motive of my being here." He pointed at us accusingly like a parent would to their child. "I want no funny business going on. No close contact, so this -" he separated our clasped hands and placed them to our sides again "– is a no. I want him back by midnight. Any later than that I will assume you have Frednapped him and are having your wicked way with him, which overrides rule number one of no funny business. Fourthly –"

"George!" Fred and I exclaimed.

"OK, ok! I'm just doing what a good twin should."

"If you're done – which you are! – We should be going," Fred said, once again taking my hand.

"Have fun kids! But not too much!" George yelled behind us.

"Merlin help me with him," Fred murmured under his breath as we journeyed through the hallways.

"For a minute I actually thought he was coming with us," I admitted. "Where are we going? I just – I didn't know what to wear – not sure what was appropriate, so I just –"

"Ella," Fred stopped by a large statue. "I didn't tell you because it's a _surprise_."

I bit my lip, not wanting to voice my concern on my outfit again. He pointed his wand at the statue and I used his momentary distraction to inspect my clothes. Bonnie had picked out a simple sleeveless black lace dress with a flared floral skirt, a grey cardigan and some ankle boots over tights. The transition from jeans and shorts to skirts and dresses over the years had been a hard one, complete with Zoe fighting me whenever I opted for the former. She had since gifted me with many dresses, many of which I never wore, but was more comfortable with.

The statue lurched into some sort of life and opened up at the back, presenting a dark passageway. Fred looked over his shoulder and held my hand.

"Don't want you getting lost."

"Is this how we're getting to Hogsmeade?" I asked as we walked through the seemingly endless passage, the tip of his wand emitting the only light. I gripped his hand harder.

"Always knew you were a clever one," he said.

"So I take it this route isn't very well known."

"Correct again, love."

Sucking in my cheeks prevented a grin from taking over.

Time dragged on in the silence until we finally arrived at some stairs. Fred led me up and carefully opened the door. He jumped up, and with a giant smile, swooped me up into heaven on earth.

The shelves around us were all colourful, even in the dark. Chocolates of every kind imaginable layered one entire wall. Another held sweets and lollipops with dancing images advertising their unique tastes. Hanging from the ceiling were discs and planets of sugar swirled confectionary.

"Honeydukes," I gasped, completely enraptured by the deliciously sweet smells.

Fred appeared in front of me, between his teeth a long dark stem. "For the lady," he said, removing the chocolate rose and swirling it before my face.

"Oh God, that looks amazing!"

"Always thought chocolate flowers are better than real ones, wouldn't you agree, love?" he asked.

"Definitely," I murmured through a mouthful of a chocolate petal; it melted and crackled in my mouth.

"And over here," Fred said, taking my hand and dragging me to the other side of the store. He inspected a few rows and pulled out a little package. "Guess what this is?"

"A lollipop."

"A-ha! Not just any lollipop – it's an Acid Pop."

"That doesn't sound very nice."

He rolled his eyes, then, opening the wrapper, put it into his mouth. "Thee? Perfecwy fwine."

I laughed at his sudden wince, followed by another, until he finally removed the Acid Pop, steam billowing out of his mouth and nose.

"Think that's funny do ya?" Fred grinned crookedly and slowly advanced towards me. His hungry leer made me laugh even louder, disturbing the quiet of the night. He lunged, his hands covering my mouth.

"Shh!"

Standing in the middle of a deserted Honeydukes we listened for any other sounds other than the steam's whistles dying down. There was nothing – and then a voice. Fred's arms guided me down and behind a corner, hidden in the shadows.

"Stay quiet," he whispered so close to my ear his lips grazed the skin, my loose hair brushed behind my ear giving him better access.

The owner did a slow inspection of the store, pointing their lit wand all around. Their footsteps edged closer to our corner. Fred, a hand still over my mouth and the other around my waist, gently steered me backwards. Our movements were awkward, still in a crouching stance and shuffling ourselves around stacked boxes. Just as the owner appeared in our previous location we rounded the corner and sat behind a large barrel.

_Nox _was heard, and then feet moving further away. We exhaled simultaneously and breathed quiet laughter leaning back into a more relaxing position. Fred's head thumped against the barrel.

"Ow."

Tilting his head back, he inspected the plain barrel, then, reaching his arm up, dove his hand in.

"What's that?" I whispered as he pulled down a small box. He shrugged, resting his other arm around my waist.

"Fred?"

"Mmm?"

"Why am I in your lap?"

It was a rather cute sight, seeing the beginnings of a blush appear around his ears. I had never seen Fred blush before, only George. However, unlike George, Fred recovered much quicker, and his flushed skin was gone as fast as it had materialised.

"Because I'm more comfortable than the floor, of course," he winked. "I'm only being a gentleman."

My mouth opened, ready to retort, but my stomach beat me to it. It grumbled embarrassingly loudly, threatening the reappearance of the owner, despite my arms attempting to smother the noise.

"I thought you ate your dinner?" Fred smirked. I willed myself not to fidget.

"Sadly, I was unable to finish it thanks to two idiots."

"Such men need punishing, surely."

"Oh, they'll get it," I warned to an unflinching Fred. He rolled his eyes and stood up, both hands steadying me by my waist. Checking the time on an old watch on his wrist, his lips danced in funny movements.

"Care to dance?" he asked, holding his hand out in the small distance between us.

"What? Here? We almost got caught!"

"So?"

"We'll get caught, Fred." Biting my lip was futile when it came to Fred.

Using his outstretched hand, he clasped mine, his other hand resting on my waist and pulling us closer together.

"So?"

He started a slow dance, small circles and twirls in one spot. It intensified after moments of boredom, him pushing me out far and then yanking me back into his body, prompting him to stumble back into more boxes. I stopped, standing in his arms and listening out for the owner. Nothing. Fred grinned and danced us over to the storefront. The comfort of his long arms left me as he pulled down an item from a high shelf.

"You're going to love this," he said, shoving it in my face.

"Chocolate Bomb?" I said, reading the label.

"Try it," Fred encouraged, taking one himself.

Without hesitation I lobbed the chocolate into my mouth in a similar fashion to Fred. The hard chocolate shell wasted no time in melting, the sensation making me want to scream in satisfaction. Nothing could have prepared me for the following _bang!_ Chocolate oozed out of the remainder of the shell and covered the roof of my mouth, my teeth and tongue.

Fred laughed, his mouth open wide, revealing nothing but chocolate. "Told woo."

I wanted to frown, tell him to shut his disgusting mouth and taste the chocolate from his mouth. Instead, I laughed. Not a wild, exuberant laugh like his, but a small giddy laugh. Laughing with a chocolate covered mouth, I found, resulted in snorting. His freckled face crinkled as silent laughter poured from his mouth with strands of saliva and chocolate escaping his lips. It was an infectious laughter, to which I caught.

The laughter was painful but so very blissful. Fred calmed first, wiping chocolate from his chin and tears from his eyes. I was still bent low, so engrossed on relieving my stomach of the pressure that Fred's expression went by unnoticed. Eventually, he helped me get my breath back, laughing lightly as he did. Before we were discovered, Fred directed the way back to the hidden passage.

My hands shook as I wiped the mirthful tears from my eyes, still recovering. It was only when we made it back to the statue of the hag I realised we would not be continuing our date. Disappointment flooded me; did I ruin it? Did he change his mind and decide to cut it short?

His wand shut the secret passage when I voiced my question.

"So, is our date over?" My attempt at sounding casual and blithe hurt my ears, it was much too put on. I had not expected Fred to notice.

"Was it that bad?" his hand rested over his chest in a façade of great pain.

"No, no – I didn't mean –"

"Good. I would hate for this experience to put you off. Come on now."

My question was left unanswered, and all my previous joy fragmented into the darkness of Hogwarts.

The portrait of the fruit bowl swung open, and instead of allowing me in, he entered first, holding the door open for me from the inside.

Smells punctuated the air, greeting us first. Smells of meat and steamed vegetables and melted cheese. Then came the dim light illuminating the long dark room. There were few candles, some floating around a small table, some around the fireplace, also reduced from its usual intense light. And then a cough.

Looking down I saw Dobby, dressed in a bright green toga and orange slippers. Black scrawl painted his face: a moustache and a trio of moles.

"Master Weasley, Miss Ella," Dobby greeted, bowing so low his nose was a hairs distance away from the ground.

"Sir Dobby," Fred bowed. He stood beside me and slithered his arm around my waist. "Reservation under Weasley."

"Of course, Master," Dobby said, blinking away tears at being addresses as sir. He took large steps towards the small table, where, upon closer inspection, another figure emerged in similar dress as Dobby. Fred groaned.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"You expect me to miss out on this occasion? Not likely. Besides, Dobby hired me."

The doppelgangers were anything but in that moment, Fred glaring at his twin whilst an expression of annoyance graced his features, whereas George simply grinned and winked.

"Fine," Fred relented, cursing his twin loud enough for him to hear.

His warm hand pushed lightly on my back, urging me to my seat. The brothers stared, an internal conversation carrying through their faces, and then both rushed to pull out my seat. Fred's elbow dug into George's ribs, while his face was getting shoved by two hands. They struggled in their pursuit, utterly oblivious to me taking the seat opposite them. Dobby passed me my menu, his voice drawing the twins' attention.

I smiled at them once, then turned to the menu with one option for each criteria as the twins muttered in distorted sentences. With a final shove, Fred sat down, glaring at his brother.

"Bloody idiot."

"May I take your orders?" George sang, ignoring Fred.

"I'll have the lasagne with the side of steamed vegetables, please," I said.

"Magnificent choice madam! And you sir?"

"Not much choice, is there?" Fred grumbled.

"Sir, your order please."

"Same as my lovely date here."

"Of course. Wonderful taste. Your food shall be with you shortly." George gathered the parchment menus and held them under his arm. "Drinks?"

"Butterbeer for me and a milkshake for the lady," Fred said, shooing George away.

"So…dinner," I said. "You could have told me the date wasn't over."

"Why? Were you worried?" Fred's lip quirked up.

"No! Of course not. I was…just…noticing…"

"You were worried!"

My eyes mechanically rolled as they always seemed to do around the twins. "Whatever."

George placed our drinks before us, but before he could prolong his presence, Fred stood and dragged him over to Dobby. Giggled burst into my straw as the thick chocolate milkshake cooled me from the inside.

"Ok, now up," Fred ordered upon returning.

"Excuse me?"

"Get up," he repeated.

"Why?" I asked suspiciously. It was a natural reaction around him.

His hands flapped, urging me to stand. He pulled me beside the table and tucked the chair back in. Holding the back of it, he pulled it out again, his toothy smile insisting me to sit.

"I cannot believe you."

He ran to his seat again and quickly sat, his chin resting in the palms of his hands.

"What?" he questioned innocently, his middle finger flying up to the person cursing behind him.

"This is really amazing, Fred. I honestly didn't think you were capable of something so…"

"Perfect?"

"Yes, actually. This is perfect."

The childish expression his features were acting relaxed into a casual smile.

"I disagree. I think it would be utter rubbish if the company wasn't perfect."

"Aw, Freddie-boo, you're too sweet!" George gushed.

"Not you, you git. Ella!"

"Brother! The foul words bleeding from your mouth wound me so!" George cried, grabbing a fork and taking large bites from Fred's plate still in his hand.

"Oi! Stop – Ella, make him stop!"

"George, give Fred his food or I will make a serious complaint to your employer about your service," I warned, fixing him with a glare.

Fred's plate was set down and George skipped away. Instead of the playful glare he usually adopted, his face was hardened. I dropped my fork and rested my hand over his.

"Fred?"

"I'm sorry if he's ruining your night. I didn't plan for him to be here."

I assured him my night was going splendidly. Nevertheless, I excused myself from the table and made my way to George. He was sitting on a bench beside Dobby, instructing him on the art of Gobstones.

"George?"

He looked up. "Yep? Need something?"

"I'm sorry to say this, but could you, kind of…leave?" The words made my mouth dry, expecting him to be hurt, but in a green toga and orange slippers, I could not imagine myself to keep a straight face.

"Ok."

The surprise on my face must have been evident as George laughed and patted my head reassuring me that there were no hard feelings, and he was simply seeing how long Fred would last sharing his date. With a final wave and yell of midnight, he left.

"He took that well," I noted once I sat back.

"Of course he did, he's George. He was only mucking about anyway," Fred shrugged, his food almost gone.

"But – but you were upset."

"Upset? No. I was annoyed, more like. Lee must have dared him to stay down here. Git."

Falling into conversation was easy as we finished our meal and dessert of ice cream. Laughter came easy with Fred, and we retreated to the fireplace once we were happily stuffed. His hand enclosed mine and he pulled me on his lap on an armchair. I was tense, at first, sitting stiffly on his lap, but with the aid of his arms around my middle and him leaning back, I found it much more comfortable to rest into him. It was not long until the dress and tights had me fidgeting.

"Sorry, I can't do this much longer, I need to get changed," I said, detaching myself from his warm body.

"I'm surprised you even wore a dress today," he said.

"Did George happen to tell you everything about me?"

I was answered with a wink, one that was becoming far too common.

"I'll wait here," he called as I retreated to my dorm to replace the dress for my pyjamas.

And indeed, he was still seated on the armchair when I returned with my plaid pyjamas and Bill's t-shirt. My stomach, blissfully content with the night's meal, must have encouraged some confidence in me, for I resumed my seat in Fred's lap without any prompting. His arms instinctively wound around me again, his chin resting on my head as his hands played with my still loose hair.

"I didn't mention you looked great in that dress, did I?"

I hummed no.

"Well, you looked better than great."

"Mhmm?"

He chuckled, almost nervously. "You're beautiful."

My eyelids fluttered open, but Fred was staring at the fireplace.

"Even in your pyjamas," he laughed.

"You don't look too bad yourself," I said, playfully tugging on his navy blue shirt he had paired with brown trousers.

"I don't look too bad? Pfft, I look like a sex god."

The answer was typical from him, I should have seen it coming, and yet, it still surprised me into laughter.

"I don't think anyone makes me laugh as much as you," I admitted, my fingers rolling his shirt button around.

"I love making you laugh."

I titled my head up again, but this time Fred was looking down with an intensity I would never have associated with him before. It took my breath away; his fingers on my lower back and in my hair. My mind strayed to the thought that our faces were impossibly close, his lips ghosting breath onto mine. It was intoxicating, and I wanted more. In Honeydukes I had wanted to taste the chocolate from his mouth, I only realised, wanting to see if it was sweeter from the heat of his mouth.

But I did not taste chocolate, not this time. His soft, thin lips touched mine. We did nothing but press them together for short moments that lingered on. Then his started moving. My inexperience led me to follow the dance of his lips, the opening and closing; the pressing down and releasing; the tilting. I was sure that there, in his arms and with his lips, I was exactly where I should be. His warmth engulfed me, teased my senses until I could breathe no longer.

We broke apart together, him peppering small kisses onto my lips as I gulped down air. I laughed onto his mouth, incredulous of what had just occurred. But his eyes sparkled in a foreign language, and we kissed again. Our first, and certainly not last, date was over too soon.


	25. Like Strawberry Jam

**I kept changing my mind for this. I do not like this. I forgot most of what I wanted to put in this. But here you go.**

**Thank you to the reviewers/followers/favouriters, hope you enjoy!**

**PS. Don't forget to check out my new story Mending Broken Souls.**

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25\. Like Strawberry Jam

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It was a mistake; completely and unintentional. I blamed it on my subconscious: the instinctive reaction to the transition similar to that of jumping into a pond and then to an ocean, an adventure far too ambitious for a land creature. Two weeks had passed into the middle of spring. Two weeks since I has seen Fred.

The beginning of this hide and seek game was, I repeat, unintentional, starting with Potions homework that required hours of research and planning, consuming two entire days locked in my dorm. Then came Ancient Runes studying and historical segments spanning through three centuries of History of Magic regarding witch hunts. Time eluded me in the darkness of the dorm, illuminated day and night by dim candles. No distractions came in a ginger topped colourful and wild blur, for Bonnie had blocked the Narnian cupboard allowing me peace. All this studying stemmed from a late meeting with Dumbledore. He informed me of the odd and, quite honestly, irregular nature of my studies, for never before in recorded history had a squib been entitled magical studies: the few core subjects started in first year and the extra curricula's in third year. Due to this, I would be taking second and third year exams throughout the blooming months of summer, completely discounting first year exams.

The words from the old wizard's mouth rooted the stress which burgeoned with every passing hour. I had to take a hiatus from my work in the kitchens and much of my usual daily routine was pushed aside in favour of the journey to deferred gratification.

But through all this, not once had I forgotten the date. Most nights I slept on my books, a half sentence glaring up at me as if aware of its impending fate of being crossed out and started over as my brain, now fuelled on sleep slumber, could not conjure up the rest in melodious continuation. On the nights I had a minute or two to ponder on anything but the school's curriculum, I felt guilty: guilty for the fear he was probably feeling of not having heard from me since, guilt for not offering him the simple and innocent explanation for my absence, guilty for being scared of the confrontation we will be sure to have. And the worst guilt of all? Missing his and George's seventeenth birthday.

I could not have chosen a worse time to disappear on him.

The first few faults of guilt were vain of me, and I chastised myself, thinking he had no reason to be worried, for I was not a large part of his life as I was, say, George's; he was sure to have a line of girls queuing up for him, just as his twin used to boast.

For the first time in however long, I spent the day in the open kitchen. Every little noise elicited a jump, only for me to realise it had been the banging of the pans or Dobby's swift dancing feet. I was sure I paced the perimeter of the kitchen for a few hours and twiddled my thumbs on the armchair for a few more. There was still work and studying to be done, waiting patiently for me on my desk, but I was adamant to speak to Fred. The need was suffocating and I swallowed my heart at every turn of the clock he did not appear. When the clock tolled eight I was ready to give up; not hope, for that could burn alight another day.

The pear giggled and the portrait door opened.

"Ella," he said, his expression vulnerable in obvious surprise.

"Hi."

"You're…out."

"Yeah. Sorry, I was busy – Dumbledore dropped a bomb on me, I have loads of exams – two years' worth in fact. Where's Fred?"

Lee, still overcome with shock, stayed silent, and then frowned.

"Pranking with George. They should be here –"

"Hurry up and get in!"

"Tosser."

"– soon."

The two red heads almost collapsed in their attempt to hurriedly close the door, both laughing and panting. It stopped once their eyes fell on me.

"Alright, Ella?" George said cheerfully.

"Hi." I was sure I intended to greet George but my eyes stuck to Fred, drinking him in visually after the weeks lost.

"Are you alright, Ella?" he asked.

In my worrying I had not prepared what to say, yet I knew I needed to explain myself and apologise for being a damn idiot. Every thought of what I should say distorted in my head, and in my haste to relieve myself of some of the guilt and stress it all tumbled out.

"Fred I am so sor – first there was Potions and then – then Dumbledore said exams, second and third so stress and – and…um, work, yes and I am so…I didn't forget – God no, I could never…it was…"

His arms held me and my face buried itself into his shoulder, my arms gripping his shirt. I was ashamed to feel my face burn and my eyes sting from the gentle action, but with a few calming breaths, inhaling his warm scent, I was able to enjoy the embrace without my apprehensions doubting my instinct. Crying was not an option. The twins dreaded crying.

I was amazed of the reaction the simple gesture of a hug could bring. What was a hug? Arms holding you close. Arms keeping you whole from breaking when you feel as if there is nothing but to do but shatter and crumble. A hug is sharing strength. A hug is intimate, regardless of the mundane normalcy of it; what is mundane about connecting yourself physically to others? But it is not just physical – hugs electrify the senses, make sparks fly, alert butterflies. Fred's hug ticked all those boxes.

"Better?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, for his entirety had indeed blocked out the world around us.

"Good."

"I'm sorry."

"It's ok."

"No," I took a step back, our arms still around the other. I was not willing to fracture the connection that was fuelling my body; it was drugging me in the most delicious way. "It's not ok. I should have said something but…honestly…I was…scared."

His frown portrayed confusion.

"I know – there was nothing to be scared of. I mean, we had just kissed but –"

"You _what?_" Lee's yell interrupted. His eyes were comically widened and his mouth hung dangerously low. "You KISSED?"

I shifted my gaze between the twins, each with an identical smirk.

"You didn't tell him?"

"We didn't tell anyone," George answered, moving to stand beside me and Fred.

"Didn't tell us what?"

George swung his arm over my shoulders as Fred held me before him, his arms comfortingly encircled around my waist. It was an odd sensation at first, responded to stiffly on my behalf, but the warmth and strength was familiar and I soon melted.

"About our date."

I could have slapped him for that, but it was so _George_ and all I could manage was an eye roll. And although Fred was behind me, he must have understood my thoughts, waving an arm to whack George.

If Lee's face was comical before it was absolutely hilarious now, his thoughts uninhibited on his face, making me uncomfortable in between the two bodies.

"You…you _three?_ A triad? Is that…is that even p-possible? B-but – you're _twins!_"

Their quiet sniggers erupted, washing over Lee and I and the kitchen. I could not believe I had missed this for two weeks. I soaked it all in, relishing in the music of their deep laughs.

"Oh, ha bloody ha. Real funny, tossers," Lee grumbled, swiping an apple out of a fruit bowl and biting into it.

"Y-you – your f-f-face!"

"Triad? Merlin, Lee, when's the last time you heard one of them about?"

"Bet Ella would love that though, being in a Weasley sandwich," George winked.

"Mmm, I'm not so sure. She's a bit…slim, for a filling. Got anyone else available, Forge?"

"I might be able to think of someone, Gred."

"Excellent. Your dorm or mine?"

The discussion was becoming too much. I attempted to move from Fred's arms, but as soon as he realised he held on tighter, his laughter ghosting the skin behind me ear.

"Going somewhere?" he asked.

"Away from this so called Weasley sandwich, which I want no part in!"

George groaned. Lee managed to get through two apples, an orange, some strawberries and a small chocolate tart before the twins left the topic of the Weasley sandwich, both grumbling about not wanting to see their brother in the buff, swapping and sharing women.

"So what was all that nonsense that was you trying to explain why we haven't seen you in years? It sounded like you were possessed by a troll," Fred said, throwing his banana peel over his head. I held in the temptation to slap and scold him.

I proceeded to tell them everything, to which they thankfully listened to silently. I found it easier to think of the workload and the mass of exams now that some of my stress had been relieved. Looking back on it, sharing my worries made the work seem less daunting – an impossible idea because the work was still there waiting for me.

"Whoa, Dumbledore's making you do all that already?" George said, astounded at the mention of all my exams.

"I have to if I want to graduate in a few years. I can't imagine staying here once everyone my age has already left."

"When will you be doing your OWLs?" Lee asked.

I shrugged. "Dumbledore said it depends it on how well I do this year and my progress from now on. He said if I'm lucky, I may be able to do them next year, but I doubt I'd do so well."

"Why not?"

"You've been studying like mad! Even in the summer holidays you used to read all those books." The boys made a face at this, as if the thought of willingly reading outside of school was taboo. Make no mistake: to the Weasley twins and Jordan it most certainly was.

"Those books aren't going to help me now though, are they? And that was for fun."

"Oh, dear Merlin's bollocks!"

"My ears cannot fathom such filth."

"Why have you brought such a blasphemer into our lives?"

"We are but good men, and among us is a rotten egg you have doomed to lead us astray from the junior marauder life."

"IT BURNS!"

"Are you boys done?"

They sat up from their various positions and poses, Lee's being the most dramatic: he was sprawled on the floor in an impossible position, his legs over his head looking like an odd split, almost like an accident during yoga, yet he rolled out flawlessly.

"No man should ever be able to do that," George said.

Lee and George soon left the kitchen, throwing a mention about a meeting over their shoulders. And then it was just Fred.

"So…" he drawled.

"So…"

"You missed our birthday."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"No biggie," he shrugged. He was sitting on a bench, an empty plate in front of him that had been covered in food moments ago. His eyes watched his hands as they twiddled, flexed and clapped, his feet thumping a tuneful pattern.

I knew the importance of turning seventeen in the magical world. It was the equivalent of turning eighteen for muggles; you were essentially a legal adult, free to do as you wish; drink, marry, gamble. If anyone was to splash out on their seventeenth, it would be the Weasley twins, my best friends, and I missed that.

"What did you guys do?"

"We didn't actually organise anything, for once. Lee and the girls threw us a party in the common room with all of Gryffindor. It lasted all night," Fred replied, smiling down at his hands. His shirt sleeve rode up some, and I noticed a new leather watch, not particularly fancy, but a definite improvement to his old tattered one.

"That was nice of them," I said, and smiled, showing him that I was happy for him even though my chest twisted and tightened.

"You weren't there." I stayed silent, not knowing how to respond as my chest burned and restricted my breath. "I thought they didn't invite you, so I came down here. But you weren't here."

Fred looked up then, his face firm in its blankness. It was everything I dreaded to see. It was terrifying. "I waited all night, you know. Dobby found me asleep in a bowl of pudding. Had to wake me up when he got up for morning duty. I only got about three hours sleep before Potions."

"I'm sorry."

"I tried for hours to open that cupboard. Why did you block me out?"

"I don't…I didn't know…I was…" I shrugged lamely, unable to come up with a decent response. Everything I thought of earlier escaped me, leaving me trembling and cold.

"You were just studying. Why couldn't you tell me that? It was so simple!"

"I know."

"Then why?"

"Fred –"

"What? Were you embarrassed? Did you – did you regret it?"

His voice leaked that little bit, his true feelings under his hard exterior visible, and I understood his anger, but it did not make me feel any better.

"Of course I didn't! It's just, there was one thing after the other…and I really needed to get it all done and I was afraid you'd distract me." It was the wrong answer, I realised the second the words were out of my mouth and Fred's temper woke.

"So that's all I am, eh? A silly little distraction? Sorry to disappoint you, Ella."

"Fred, stop. I didn't mean that." I growled my frustration out into my hands, wondering why our encounters had a tendency to burn as quickly as fire set to a candle wick. It was like talking to the old Fred, the horrible Fred, as much as I dreaded to think of that – this – side of him. "Why do you take everything way out of proportion?"

He did not give a reply, and I was thankful, for I had time to gather my wits and think of an articulate assertion.

"I had Potions work to do, and you know what Snape is like. Then everything just escalated from there. I have to learn three years' worth of curriculum in time for the summer. I've only managed two years so far. I have to learn another year in what…two months? Less than that maybe. I've been stressed out of my mind and I was dying to see you, especially after our date. But I knew that if you knew that you would get me to take a break and I couldn't afford that. I forced myself to see you today, to get away from my books because I…I missed you. And I knew I needed to explain myself. I kicked myself day after day for missing your birthday. I was stupid, I admit that. I'm an idiot, a god awful idiot."

I felt hot and sweaty after my declaration, and breathed in much needed air. It was rather empowering, getting everything off my chest, and in that moment it seemed the world was at my mercy.

"A bloody shitting sod."

"What?" I asked, confused.

"You. You have to add that you were a bloody shitting sod," he said in complete seriousness. And then his eyes gleamed that typical Weasley sparkle.

"On one condition."

"I'm listening."

"You have to admit that you were worried I changed my mind about you."

Fred rolled his eyes and shoved me, his usual playfulness emerging again.

"I wasn't worried," he said.

"Good. Otherwise you would have been an idiot."

"Fred Weasley is no idiot," he declared.

I was sure I had something to say and even opened my mouth with the words ready on my tongue, but his mouth over mine ceased all comprehensible thought.

"I missed that," he said, hovering close to my face. "Two weeks I've been denied that. But we have plenty of time to make up for that."

With a firm hold on my hand, we exited the kitchen and rounded into the Entrance Hall. It had been a while since I left the kitchen for anything but the boys accompanying me to the common room and the warm air was refreshing. Even with them I found myself on edge, peering out of the corner of my eyes over every new sound, sight or smell. They had not met my sister, possibly did not even know of her existence besides a name and stories. It was possible and very likely that they passed her every day, glanced at her in the Great Hall but turned away, instantly forgetting her Slytherin ordinariness, and they had no idea she was the cause for my fear of leaving the kitchen.

It was like an innate reaction, my feet planting themselves to the ground when Fred turned to exit the Entrance Hall to the grounds. I tugged on his hand.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"I thought we'd go outside for a bit."

Peering over his shoulders I could make out lights dotted around the expanse of the Hogwarts grounds, not many, but they were scattered in such a way that we would be spotted easily. Fred noticed my gaze and chuckled.

"Don't worry about them, they're just prefects. Last watch for the night, they'll be gone any minute now," he said. His assurance meant nothing to me; Darren was a prefect, he could have been one of those lights out there.

"Can we go to the common room instead? I want to see everyone."

His eyebrows were furrowed in puzzlement, and he stretched out an agreement before leading the way to the common room, where, upon entering, I regretted my decision. George and Lee sat in front of the fire, each in varying degrees of undress with ink drawn on their faces. The three Gryffindor girls were in a similar state, completing their circle. Their yells cut through the air, neither friendly nor filled with animosity, when Fred and I approached them.

"Where the hell have you been? Do you have any idea how mental everyone's gone without you? And what about their birthday? It was my job to make sure you turned up all dressed up and gorgeous, but you disappeared!" Angelina fumed, standing up to her full intimidating height, although she was only a few inches taller than me. Her dark orbs glared down at me from under her long lashes. I had to escape the enticement to hide behind Fred.

"Hi, Ange. Um…sorry?"

"Bloody right you're sorry! Now don't ever do that again."

"For Merlin's sake, Angie, you're going to scare the poor girl away again," Alicia said, smiling softly at me from her position in the broken circle. She was sat next to George, their legs ghosting against the other, yet neither party showed any sign of discomfort.

"Or, Ella would be kind enough to never induce such a reaction again and would stay," Katie said. "Because I, for one, am never dealing with the twins again when they're like that."

"Like what?" I asked, my interest piqued. From the corner of my eye I could see Fred glaring at his friends.

Angelina smirked and crossed her strong arms over her chest. "Like –"

"Lina," Fred warned. "Don't listen to her Ella, she's going to come out with some nonsense like she always does. Doesn't have an intelligent bone in her body, that one."

The dark skinned beauty fumed visibly, but maintained her attention on me. "Freddie boy turned into a pansy."

"Oi!"

"He sulked constantly when he was just sitting around and the boys went out pranking every night to get him to cheer up. It never lasted long, but it was better than him sitting here moping. He kept getting detention for being snarky in class. He was either calling out all the time with inappropriate jokes or sleeping. And he missed his birthday! Last year –"

"Last year is completely irrelevant, Lina," Fred said, looking hopefully to his twin. He spewed curses when all George did was wave and laugh.

"Oh dear, I don't think I'll ever forget that," Katie said, engaging in recollecting that episode with Lee.

"Why, what happened?"

"It was nothing."

"It was not nothing, Freddie," Angelina laughed – a sinister sound. "Even Ella's dying to know." With no retaliation from Fred, she continued. "Last year the boys discovered the secret stash of firewhiskey hidden in the kitchen. They found it months before their birthday, but they took bottles every other week and stored them in their dorm, collecting them until they covered their beds, desks, everything! Eventually, they asked us to hide some for them. They had it all over the common room as well.

"They threw a massive party when Katie told them muggles always splash out big for their sixteenth. I don't think anyone saw them without a drink in their hands for the entire night. And then in comes Hazel Gimly!" Groans resonated across the room from all the surrounding Gryffindors.

"Bloody hell, Ange, I haven't even digested my dinner yet," George grumbled.

"Anyway, Hazel Gimly, absolute leech. She sees a guy she wants, she sticks to them. Her boob to hip width ratio is atrocious. So yeah, she sees a piss drunk Fred – even though everyone knew she had her eyes on George – and they dance and flirt and…it was sickening!"

"You didn't have the pleasure of hearing the noises she makes, now that was sickening!" Lee said, grimacing into Alicia's shoulder which he buried himself into.

"I heard those!" Katie laughed. "Apparently, poor Hazel had never before been on the pleasurable end of oral stimulation."

Katie's declaration confirmed my suspicions. Looking over at Fred showed that his ears and neck were a bright red. Despite my own discomfort, I decided to irritate Fred some more.

"She was probably crying at how horrible it was." My statement was met with mixed reactions, from looks of shock and horror to giant grins.

"Ella!" someone exclaimed through the boisterous laughter and howls.

A soft pinch on my arm brought my attention to Fred.

"You'll pay for that," he whispered, his face filled with amusement. He had to lean in close to enable me to hear him.

"Oh, will I, now?" I smirked, flicking his long nose.

His smile like the sweetest, tangiest strawberry jam glowed, illuminating his face under his hair. Without thinking I brushed it back, an action so foreign in its familiarity that my fingers lingered behind his ear and slowly brushed his skin. We were lost to the world, absorbed in his dancing blue eyes and fiery hair. It was an astonishing thought, Fred Weasley liking me. _Me! _This gorgeous, handsome, hilarious, quirky boy, known to everyone within the walls of Hogwarts, and he wanted a nobody. It was wrong, but so, so right. His gaze and touch, feather light on my waist, confirmed it.

"WHAT?" a feminine shriek broke out, silencing the dying laughter.

Impulsively I jumped back and stared at the group, now gawking at us. Fred's hand reached out and linked with mine.

"Hello, fellow Gryffindors. I'd like to introduce you to my girlfriend, Ella Wood. Ain't she a babe?"

* * *

Late night walks became a common thing for us, the April breeze enveloping us in the darkness. It was on a night like this that I noticed the beauty of Fred's hands. They were strong and slightly calloused, from both his role as a Beater and his exploration of potions and inventing. His fingers were perfectly long, his nails short. They were always warm, perfect against my chilled hands.

It was not just his hands, of course, that I admired. He acknowledged my apprehensions of him distracting me from my studies, and agreed, however reluctantly, to keep a distance when I asked. He dragged on his farewells and lingered in his kisses – oh, his kisses! As warm and strong and perfect as his kisses. He was always thoughtful, but being Fred Weasley had forcefully dragged me away from one homework or another. He ate many meals with me, sometimes with George, Lee or Angelina, and sometimes just the two of us.

But it was the late night strolls that captured my whole attention, because it was just us in the world.

"Did you have dessert today?" he asked as we circled Hagrid's hut. We waved to him through the window and began the trek back to the castle.

"Yes, Fred, for the hundredth time, I did have the carrot cake, I helped make it, and no it did not remind me of you," I said.

"But it should have! Carrots and Weasleys go together like…sausage and mash! Cheese and crackers."

"You're the only crackers one around here."

His arms pulled me down to the ground, dewy from the light rain that showered down hours earlier, and he sat on my stomach none too lightly, eliciting an _oomph! _from me.

"What was that, Princess?" he asked, a malicious grin appearing.

"Fred! My back's getting wet, get off!"

To my utter horror, his fingers began a dance along my ribs, and his weight restricted my squirms, forcing me to endure the torture his beautiful hands bestowed.

"Didn't hear that, love. Care to repeat?"

His fingers intensified and my voice refused to cooperate. Howls of laughter escaped from my lips.

"What was that, Princess?"

Tears clouded my vision. The uncomfortable tension of damp hair and clothes consumed me. I almost did not hear the voice above us until Fred stopped.

"What's going on here?"

"Nothing that concerns you," Fred snapped.

"It's after curfew, I have the right to give you a detention for being out."

"Sod off. Or would you rather a puking pastille in your breakfast in the morning?"

"That would be another detention. And house points lost."

Fred's body blocked the person standing behind him, but his voice was clear. I froze under Fred.

"How 'bout you just mind your own business and piss off. We're going now anyway." Fred stood, intentionally holding his body to cover mine.

"Ten points," the voice called out, stalling Fred.

He ignored me pulling on his sleeve, telling him not to bother, that it was not worth it. He shrugged me off and turned to face him.

"For what?" Fred challenged.

"Be lucky it's only ten. You're out after curfew, you were engaged in activities Dumbledore would not approve of, you threatened –"

"Engaged in activities Dumbledore would not approve of?" Fred quoted, snarling. "What, tickling? Having fun?"

"Fred," I raised my voice above that of the breeze to be heard, but he ignored me.

"It could have led elsewhere," he said.

"Because you would know all about that, wouldn't you? Prude."

Fred held my hand and began walking back to the castle again. No voice called back, and I had to jog to catch up to his wide strides.

There was a figure standing in the doors of the Entrance Hall, leaning against a wall and inspecting their nails. If I was a believer in Divination I would have spouted some nonsense about a change in the winds, or the position of Saturn having influenced these events. But Divination was an excuse for people – particularly batty old psychos – to preach illusions to the paranoid and vulnerable.

She called out to us – to _me_.


	26. Your Warm Lips Rip Apart Reality

**It's official: I'm a nocturnal writer/updater.**

**Thank you to my followers/favouriters and two lovely reviewers _chocolatecheesecakes _and _Emmamaysie_ \- I understand life getting in the way so thanks for finding the time to review.**

**Do enjoy!**

**PS. (still doing this) check out my other story Mending Broken Souls.**

* * *

26\. Your Warm Lips Rip Apart Reality

* * *

Her smile was beautiful, wide and bright in the darkness. A time years and years ago burned on my eyelids in a picture almost identical. It was a youthful smile without the accompanying innocence typically found in such smiles. It was the kind of smile full of swings and rainbows but with bruises from falling down and crazy leprechauns stealing gold.

I focused on the lost smile.

"Darling Ella!" she greeted as if I were an old friend. "Rather late for you to be out cavorting with a weasel clone. What clandestine activities are you getting up to, hmm? Oooh, father won't be happy when he hears this."

Fred glared at the Slytherin, his features fixed in exasperated confusion.

"Bloody hell, not another snake," he muttered. "The babies are the worst."

His comment flashed anger in Abigail, morphing her face into a crazed sneer.

"You should watch your tongue carrot head before you wake up to it missing."

"An elf is threatening me, I'm so scared!"

I winced before any other reaction.

"Oh, you shit," Abigail snarled.

"Yes, yes, nothing new. Move along now baby demon, I would quite like to go to bed."

She shifted her small body, not yet evolved to that of a growing teenager, blocking us from entering.

"I have a message for Ella," she crossed her arms.

"Is that so?" Fred mimicked her pose and stood straighter, staring down at the girl who barely reached his chest. "Whatever it is it can be said in front of me."

"It's nothing that concerns you."

"I'm not leaving her."

They engaged in a silent stare down, both firm in their stances. It was like watching two beasts challenging the other to make the first move, the tension between them bordering on claustrophobic. Abigail was beginning to shake; Fred stayed composed and almost smirked at her impatience.

Eventually, she unravelled her arms and held them at her sides, glaring at Fred one last time before her manic smile returned and she turned to me.

"Enjoying your stay here?"

She stared expectantly, and when I said nothing she continued.

"I did mention to father our little…reunion. He set out an inquiry as to why you were here. Dumbledore has indeed hired you, although it's all hush hush, for now."

"That it?"

"Mother and father were both surprised to hear of you," Abigail continued, ignoring Fred. "Can't say they were very pleased. But…they do have a proposition. They want you home."

The temptation to laugh was strong, the mere thought of the people throwing me out for my blood wanting me back was borderline hilarious. Fred, however, did laugh.

"Come on, Ella, this doesn't sound like anything important."

"They want you home. They are willing to take you back once school is over for summer."

"Like hell she's going anywhere with you and your parasite parents," Fred spat. He reached his hand out to mine, his skin soothing. "Thanks for the message. You wasted your time."

"Why?" I asked as Fred pushed past Abigail. He stopped.

"Why do they want you?" she scoffed. "Merlin knows. I don't know what they are thinking."

"Do you want me back?"

"Can't say it's something I have ever wished for, no."

Fred tugged my hand.

"What exactly did they say?" I pressed.

She sighed impatiently. "Is it really that vital for you to know every little thing they said?" She didn't wait for me to reply. "You're a squib, a poison to society. Perhaps mother pities you and wishes you home for her own selfish needs, she is your mother after all. I am just the messenger. Whatever you choose," she smirked disdainfully at Fred and our linked hands, "It won't change anything."

I thought of everything before and after my time at 'home'. The answer was solid, but I came to the conclusion that not many cheerful memories came from that house with that family.

"No."

Abigail grinned as if expecting that answer. "I always knew you were a disgrace!" she giggled. "A way out of your pitiful, miserable life and you opt to stay in it. With a foul blood traitor no less. Well, at least you are tainting Gryffindor, not that it needed much more. Regardless of what you may think, you are still his daughter by blood, even if your fate has been accepted by the others. That can easily be revoked."

"What fate? No one else knew."

"Not that. You really think father would dare admit your filthy blood to his peers?" she waved her hand, swatting away that notion as if it were as insignificant as a fly. "Actually, from what father says, you are rather well acquainted with the Weasley, aren't you? Away from Hogwarts, where all sorts of happenings could occur away from the prying eyes of your newest…guardian."

It dawned on me, what she was hinting at, but I refrained from trembling at the suspicion and insinuation.

"Father never liked being told no, do you remember that?" she said, her voice taking on a low hum. "You had better watch yourself Ella. I don't know what father has planned, but whatever he wants, he gets. It would be in your best interest to remember that."

"Who is he getting this information from?" I demanded.

She giggled again, and my ears throbbed from the shrill noise. Without a response, she twirled on her feet and almost danced away down to the dungeons.

"What was that about?" Fred asked once all signs of Abigail had gone and was replaced by silence and shadows.

"I have no idea."

I stood watching the empty corridor she had left through. Father wanted me back. After all these years…had he changed his mind? Regretted his decision to cast me out? I knew I would never change my mind, I was never going back to him. He had done me a favour, granting me life in Ottery away from him and the house and his associates. A shiver ran through me.

"Come on," Fred pulled my hand. "I think we could both do with some ice cream."

* * *

My stomach decided it did not want ice cream, so I settled on my bed beside Fred as he scoffed his mint choc chip and hazelnut cone.

"Sure you don't want some?" he asked again, licking the dripping ice cream, oblivious to the spots of it on his nose, cheek and chin.

"Yeah," I said. "Why do you think he wants me home? Now of all times?"

He shrugged. "I prefer not attempting to delve into the thought patterns of Slytherins. Besides, you're not going so why bother fussing?"

"It's just odd. He knew where I was, you heard Abigail. He had all these years to ask me back but he chooses now. What's the point of it?"

"I think you're thinking too much into it. He didn't know where you were, he had an inquiry set up to find out who then told him. You could have been dead for all he knew."

I shook my head. "No, he knew I was alive. The first time I saw Abigail here she wasn't surprised to see me, she was shocked to see me at Hogwarts."

"Leave it for now, you have more pressing matters to be worrying about."

"Ancient Runes! Damn, I still have work to finish off for it."

I stood from the bed and went to grab my books from the desk on the other side when Fred's hand pulled on my wrist, bringing me crashing down on top of him.

"That can wait," he said.

"What more pressing matters then?"

His lips swooped down on mine, sharing the sweetness of his ice cream with mine. He parted after successfully clearing my thoughts on everything but him.

"I left all this ice cream for you and you have the cheek to ignore it? Tsk, tsk, appalling. You get a Poor."

His chin and cheek were still coated with ice cream but the drop on his nose had smeared onto mine, leaving a sticky itch on my skin.

"How kind of you," I smirked.

"What can I say, I'm but a generous, humble jester to you my Princess."

"I hate when you call me that."

I registered his warm breath only seconds before his mouth covered mine again, hard.

"I love when you do that," I breathed out during our brief separation.

"I only wish to serve as dutifully as possible, my love," he murmured into my ear, his nose running along my face, down to my neck.

"Then listen carefully," I whispered, blowing lightly on his skin. The goosebumps surfacing on his skin captivated me before I found my senses again. "Do me a favour…and clean your bloody face you child."

I pushed myself back from him, watching him narrow his eyes at me. He made no move to clean his face.

"Go on then," I urged.

"I'm afraid my hands are incapable of completing such an act."

"And why would that be?"

"They're asleep," Fred grinned, nodding to his hands resting lazily on my sides. They were still and open.

"How convenient," I murmured; only moments ago they were gripping me so intensely I was sure they would leave some sort of mark.

He tilted his head, revealing his ice cream covered cheek to me. I sighed deeply and shook my head at Fred, but leaned forward. I hissed when my lips touched his ear.

"You're going to pay."

"I think this will suffice," he mumbled.

Without delaying any longer I pushed forward and pressed my lips to his sticky skin, lapping up and kissing the sweet substance away. I felt more than heard his laughter as I moved from his cheek to his chin. The sweetness was intoxicating, and before I realised it I had kissed him firmly on the lips. His fingers, now wide awake, curled through my hair as his other hand steadied me on my hip. He fell back on the bed, bringing me with him until he collapsed completely, never once breaking our lip lock.

"If only Hogwarts allowed me to apparate…I'd be here every night…"

"You can apparate?"

"Had lessons after Christmas. Guess we forgot to tell you."

"Idiots," I said.

"Idiots don't pass with distinction," he smirked. "Mmm…I should eat ice cream around you more often," he said between kisses.

And then an almost identical voice sounded behind us.

"Please don't if it reduces you to a starry-eyed sap."

I jumped off Fred and rolled to my feet, stumbling into the desk in the process, knocking over a few rolls of parchment.

"Cheers George," Fred said, completely at ease on the bed in the same position. "She kisses me first, for the first time mind, and you have to ruin it."

"I don't really want to see my twin engaged in such intense snogging with my best friend," he made a face, then flopped onto the bed. "What's going on?"

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"It's been ages since you guys disappeared, I was simply wondering what was taking Fred so long. From the looks of it I should have guessed what was keeping him occupied."

"I told you I was busy tonight. Couldn't whatever you wanted wait until tomorrow?"

George clucked his tongue. "Nope."

"What is it then?"

George looked to me for a long moment then back to Fred, their eyes conversing in that way only they could decipher. Fred sighed.

"Really? Now?"

"'Fraid so."

"Alright, I'll see you outside."

Fred sat on the side of the bed and pulled me to stand between his legs.

"I need to go sort something out with George and it is quite late now so I'll see you tomorrow," he said.

"What do you need to do?"

He hesitated, obviously debating with himself whether or not to say anything. He smiled, and finally decided on his answer.

"It's nothing, don't worry."

"Who are you blackmailing?"

His eyes widened for a second and he struggled for words.

"Where did you hear that from? N-no one. Why would I need to blackmail someone?"

"So you are blackmailing someone."

"Well…" he sighed. "Yes."

"Who?"

"Bagman."

My eyebrows lifted in surprise. Ludo Bagman? A vague discussion with him from the Hogsmeade weekend came into mind and I wondered if it was related to that…

"Is it to do with the World Cup?" I asked.

He nodded and continued onto the story of how he and George were conned into losing all their money, and although they won the bet, they were repaid in leprechaun gold which soon disappeared.

Throughout him explaining the predicament a hot fury washed over me and I felt this indescribable urge to hurt Bagman. Fred and George had won the bet fairly and deserved the money; their family deserved the money. Bagman had, in moments, squashed the reality of their dreams which tickled their fingers and hearts for the shortest time. It was unfair, and for a Ministry worker to perform such a crime…it was a scandal.

Fred carried on, explaining to me what measures they had gone to, attempting solve the issue, and regardless of what they said or did, Bagman condescended them, exploited them for everything they owned and then turned it back on them simply because of their age.

I was burning with foreign rage, washed away by short kisses.

He left shortly after, promising me tomorrow.

* * *

Abigail's eyes burned into me the instant I entered the Great Hall. I did not need to look over to see her watching me, it was a familiar feeling that alerted me.

Oliver's letter sat open in front of me. When Fred had left sleep did not come easily, so I spent time constructing a letter to Oliver informing him of my meeting with Abigail. I had not expected such a fast reply, but here it was a few hours later.

"That cow won't stop staring," Fred muttered.

"Ignore her," I said, keeping my eyes on the parchment.

He did not know what to say or why my father wanted me back. It was silly of me to expect such answers from him – he did not know my father or my biological family, we were only linked through Bill, who had no part in this.

Suggestions were offered though, similar to Abigail's: my mother must have worried once she heard of my existence in Hogwarts, it was only natural as a mother. But it was not her who requested me, it was father, and I could not fathom a reason as to why he would want me.

"I have never wanted to hurt a girl as much as I do now."

"Fred, stop."

George heard and looked up from his potatoes. "What's this?"

Fred inclined his head to the Slytherin table, and Abigail smirked as the boys stared openly at her. She blew them a kiss, much to their disgust, but still did not look away.

"Bit creepy," George said.

"Understatement of the millennium," Fred said. "What's Oliver saying?"

"Nothing of any use, everything I've already thought of," I sighed. "Maybe I should talk to Dumbledore."

Fred mulled it over for a second before nodding in agreement.

"Does he know who your parents are?"

"I don't think so, I've never mentioned them. Do you think I should tell him?"

"Er, yes! Of course you should. If anyone knows what to think of this it's Dumbledore."

"Ok. You have a lesson soon?"

Fred nodded through his mouthful of lunch, some gravy dripping from his lip.

"Ok, I'll see him then. Clean your face – George, you have a lesson now as well?"

"Yup. We're free in two hours though. Merlin, does that girl know any manners? It's like she's staring me down starkers."

"Just ignore her," I repeated more firmly.

I folded the letter and pocketed it, concluding that staring at the unhelpful words would do nothing in helping me find an answer. Dumbledore was sitting at the staff table, but instead of eating he was watching me carefully.

Hermione was sat opposite me a few seats down, excluded from the deep conversation that Ron and Harry were engaged in. She was scribbling furiously into a book, biting her lip as if it helped her concentration in the noisy Hall. She had figured out Fred and George's plans of blackmailing Bagman. She had told me she had overheard them, but Fred had denied this, saying how careful he and George were and that Hermione must have deduced it herself from a series of clues.

It had crossed my mind to ask her, but although we had engaged in conversations previously, I did not know the girl very well apart from her commitment to freeing house elves. I didn't feel comfortable unloading my private life onto her. Watching her, you could practically see her thoughts whirling around in her bushy head, whizzing this way and that in an organised cluster, like the patterns of bees operating around each other in perfect harmony. She was a work of art in all her modern femininity, ambitious and independent unlike any other. She was a beauty from the inside, a rarity. And this frightened me - she frightened me.

I grabbed Fred's wrist and checked the time: a few minutes before the end of lunch.

"I should be going now before there's a rush to leave," I said, pushing my plate away and tightening the robes around me. They were overly long, leaving me feeling drowned, but the smell of Fred engulfed me in such a way that I did not care of how childlike I looked.

"You want me to come with?" Fred asked.

"No, but if you see Abigail following me then…it's up to you. She won't do anything though."

He did not appear to be pleased with my answer but relented nonetheless. Fred pressed a lingering kiss to my cheek, and stroked my hand before allowing me to leave, sending me off with a wink.

Abigail watched me exit the Great Hall, but she did not follow.

It was a quiet walk to Dumbledore's office as everyone was at lunch. I waited by the gargoyle, and soon I heard chattering from students on their way to lessons but Dumbledore still had not arrived. Instead of standing outside the headmaster's office attracting attention, I turned to the gargoyle and knocked my head for the password.

"Choco balls? No…er…Crunchy Nut Clusters? No, that's the muggle cereal, Ella you idiot. Umm…" the voices were getting closer, and the more I struggled to think the less articulate my thoughts became. "Cock rin – _what? _No Ella! Ugh! Choc…cockroach…crunchies? Cockroach – Cockroach Clusters!"

The gargoyle shifted and revealed a staircase to which I ran up quickly. I reached the top heaving and entered the circular office. Fawkes was perched on his seat on Dumbledore's desk. Upon seeing me the phoenix trilled and flapped its wings. The warmth of the bird was soft beneath my fingers and she curled into my hand as I stroked her feathers and scratched her head.

"She is particularly fond of you," Dumbledore's voice came from behind me. He was smiling over his spectacles.

"She's a wonderful creature," I said, resuming my strokes when Fawkes nudged my still hand. "Sorry for coming in without permission."

"It is understandable. Please, sit."

We both took our seats. I remembered feeling impossibly nervous once before I had been in this seat, Dumbledore watching me as if reading my mind opposite, but I felt at ease.

"What is it you wish to speak to me of?"

"A third year Slytherin, her name's Abigail. She's my…she's my sister."

His eyes widened a fraction, but the remained of his face was neutral. "Oh. That is rather surprising news."

"Well, I saw her last night –"

"Past curfew, I presume?"

I fidgeted under his gaze, scolding myself for having forgotten the time of the incident. "Yes sir."

He smiled. "Carry on."

"She said she had a message for me. From my father…he said he wants me back."

Dumbledore sat in silence, contemplating my words for long moments before humming.

"Hmm, I see. And you wish to go?"

"No! No, of course not."

"Ella, what are your plans for the summer?" he inquired.

"I…" I had not thought of this at all. I had assumed I would stay at my home in Ottery, perhaps ever visit the Weasleys now that I knew they were wizards and lived so near. "I thought I'd stay in Ottery St. Catchpole."

He nodded slowly. "Of course. You have every right. I believe you are of age in the muggle world?"

"Well, the house is paid off – has been for years thanks to Bill. I can pay the bills with the income from the shop and my wages from working here. I have older friends if there's any need for me to stay somewhere, or at the Weasleys."

"Then I see no problem. Unless, there is something else that is bothering you?"

It astonished me how easy it was for him to read people – or was it just me? Was I that much of an open book? "My father, he's very…stubborn. And persistent. When he wants something he gets it. And he knows my home in Ottery. I'm afraid he'll come to get me regardless of my choice."

"What is it he wants you for?"

"I don't know. It's driving me mad!"

His gaze penetrated me once more, more serious than before. "Who is your father?"

I gulped. I did not want to answer this. "He's not a good man."

"Has he inflicted you with pain previously?"

My mouth was dry. I nodded. Dumbledore stayed silent and eventually, I found enough strength in me to utter his name.

"Yaxley."

His expression took me by surprise; it was as if he was expecting this answer. He looked at me solemnly, his lips downturned.

"I see. And are you aware of his…past associates?"

"The people he worked with?" I frowned. "They were always around for parties, or gatherings and meetings. Why, are they relevant?"

"You do not know of his affiliations?"

"What do you know?" my breathing became sharp and short. Dumbledore knew of my father. He knew something that I did not, and whatever it was, it was not good.

He frowned and looked up to Fawkes, lightly stroking her feathers.

"I am afraid to be the bearer of bad news yet again, my dear. It seems bad news has a way of haunting us. Yaxley was a follower of Lord Voldemort. Your father was a death eater."

With news such as this I would have thought my skin would burn and my vision would blur, and I would capitulate to the shadows of unconsciousness. None of this happened. I was numb. My body was still and my heart thumped evenly. In the back of my mind I knew it all made sense: his use of the Dark Arts, his infatuation with purebloods and blood purity. My lack of thoughts on my real family had left them a jumbled puzzle, and with a few words of truth from Dumbledore the puzzle fitted together in a panorama of darkness and suffering.

Abigail's hatred of Fred also became clear: Yaxley must have indoctrinated her with his pureblood manic views. What else could have done it? Even with the fall of Voldemort his opinions had not changed. And why should they have? He did not adopt those views because of Voldemort, he simply followed him because he had the means to make their vision a reality.

"If he's a death eater and he wants me for something, will he come after me once school is over?"

"It is possible."

I nodded stiffly.

"Perhaps you should return to your dorm, rest for a bit, calm yourself. There is nothing to worry about for now. You are at Hogwarts, you are safe."

"For now," I murmured.

Dumbledore must have heard, for he straightened himself a bit and clasped his hands on the table.

"I will make sure he does not get to you. If Yaxley plans to force you away from Ottery I shall do everything in my power to keep you safe. You have my word, Ella."

His words sunk in and so did the reality of everything that had been dumped on me.

My father was a death eater.

He wanted me for some unknown reason.

I was vulnerable.

I was in danger.

"Oh god," my head fell in my hands and my body caught up on this new anxiety. My throat burned with rotten acid and my stomach wheezed painfully.

Dumbledore's hand on my shoulder caused me to look up into his sparkling blue eyes, magnifying me to them when I wanted to squeeze them shut and burrow deep into the ground.

"Sleep Ella, you will feel better once you rest." His voice repeated itself in my mind, enticing my body to react.

"Sleep Ella, you are not in danger."

"Sleep."

* * *

I awoke in my dorm, blinking out the sleep and blurriness from my heavy eyes. Bonnie was humming from the adjacent bathroom and there was a figure sitting on the edge of my bed.

"What time is it?" I asked, my voice coming out groggy.

He looked up and smiled. "Almost six in the morning."

"I was out for…how long?"

"According to Dumbledore about fifteen hours or so."

My eyes flew open. "What!"

Fred chuckled. "I know! I couldn't believe it either. Never knew you to be such a lazy sod."

I sat up and stretched, my muscles aching from the deprivation of prolonged movement. Several joints popped causing Fred to wince.

"Merlin that sounds horrible. How can you stand it?"

I shrugged.

Fred, after yanking his shoes off and throwing them across the room, pulled himself up the bed and leaned on his side facing me.

"What are you doing up? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I am in bed," he replied, wiggling his eyebrows.

"In your own bed in your dorm."

"How could I when you're obviously stressed out over whatever Dumbledore told you?"

He looked uncharacteristically worried that I was tempted to make a joke as to whether he was in fact Fred Weasley.

"Is it to do with your dad?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Did you stay up all night?" I asked. He looked tired, but his eyes were alive and fully awake.

"Yeah, I distracted myself with veela porn. Don't change the subject."

I leaned against the wall behind the bed and stared ahead of me.

"Not now," was all I said, and Fred complied.

"But you will tell me? Soon?"

A smile broke out on my face as his face looked up at mine. My fingers dived into his long hair and gripped it from the base.

"I will tell you. Soon."

He grinned. His eyes flew to my lips and then back to my eyes, then returned to my lips, lingering there for long seconds before pulling himself up a bit.

"Miss Ella!"

Fred flopped back onto the bed with a quiet sigh.

"Oh, Miss Ella! Bonnie was so worried when Dumbledore brought you here sleeping. I is instructed to give you this."

She held up a bottle in her thin bony fingers. The label read _Dreamless Sleep Potion_, and in her other hand was a wet washcloth.

"Is all this necessary?" I half groaned.

"Dumbledore's orders," Bonnie chirped. She handed me the bottle first and informed me to only take a sip as I had already slept for longer than expected. Then, once I lay down comfortably, she passed the washcloth to Fred who swiped my hair away and placed it on my head.

"Am I hot?" I asked once the covers were pulled over me by Bonnie.

"You have no idea," Fred sniggered. I sent him a glare.

"You had a bit of a temperature earlier. We're just taking precautions."

I hummed out my acknowledgment through a yawn, noticing the potion taking its quick effect.

Fred once again lay beside me and danced his finger over my exposed neck in bizarre patterns. My eyelids fluttered closed at his soft touch and my breathing mellowed. All I could focus on was his skin on mine and how delicious it felt.

"You're wonderful, you know that?" I mumbled through my half induced sleep.

He chuckled. "Took you this long to figure it out?"

"You weren't always. You used to be a shite."

A laugh erupted from him. "I hear mum say that a lot. Never to our faces, of course."

The image made me smile: a short red headed woman scolding her taller sons, all the while wielding what could only be considered a dangerous weapon in her hands. Then, following that scene, a man would walk in, head full of redness and his face joyful. He would kiss his wife on the cheek, calming her somewhat and allowing his sons their escape to produce more mischief. In the next room there would be happy conversations and laughter everywhere, filling the room with a light only a family could. And children. The innocence of the many children would make even the grumpiest of people smile, all playing and skipping and telling stories of pranks and happy days.

"She sounds marvellous."

"Sleep, love."

His lips left a spark on my cheek, my nose, my forehead, and finally my lips.


	27. Nostalgia Hits Hard With Beards

**I'm back with a long but rather boring chapter. Found some time between revision and housework to write something - oh, how I missed my Frella! Unfortunately, I don't think I'll be able to update for a while what with exams coming up. Although, I seem to have been hit by the inspiration butterfly (because who doesn't like butterflies?) lately and have uploaded a few one-shots, perhaps some more to come. **

**Thank you to all the reviews/favourites/follows.**

* * *

27\. Nostalgia Hits Hard With Beards

* * *

"Hagrid, are you sure this is safe?"

He grinned, his teeth shining through the bush of his beard and lifted two thumbs up.

"Yeh'll be great, Ella, jus' do as I tol' yeh and yeh won't get stung. Maybe step back a bit more. A little bit more. Yeah? That'll do."

I gulped and returned my gaze to the creature before me that resembled something of a cross between an angry scorpion and an elongated crab. The shiny shell on its back almost reflected my fearful expression. It met my eyes and hissed.

"Hagrid!"

"No worry, no worry, Ella, that's just it tryna scare yeh off," Hagrid said, his hands waving down as if it were an ancient practice used to spread calmness.

"It's working!"

"Naw, it won't do anythin' to yeh. Jus' stay as yeh are and slowly walk it."

I inhaled a large lungful of air and slowly released it. Lifting my leg, I slowly stepped forward. From the crate the other Blast-Ended Skrewt growled in its throat, attracting the attention of the one on the end of my leash. Immediately it made a strange gurgling noise in its throat, the sting twitching in anticipation.

Hagrid had me read up on the beasts a week earlier, but no amount of theory could have prepared me for the practical. It was not my first time walking a Blast-Ended Skrewt, but before when I had done it there were more, and Hagrid had spent a good fifteen minutes attempting to find me a relatively calm one. Now, there were only two remaining, having killed off all the others. It just so happened to be survival of the fittest, and these were the angriest, most violent.

"Hagrid, it's making that noise again, why's it making that noise?" I said, inching as far back as I could.

"It's nothin', proba'ly jus' hungry. Where did the frog livers go, now?"

I didn't dare take my eyes off of the creature, now pawing at the ground, gearing to charge. I tightened my hold on the leash and heard Hagrid fumbling with his coat and mumbling to himself, his voice loud on the empty grounds.

"Ah, here yeh are," he threw a handful of the grotesque, slimy organs on the grass. Sniffing, the Blast-Ended Skrewt flattened itself closer to the ground and searched the floor, its eyes snapping back to the caged Skrewt every few moments. Finding the source of the smell, it scuttled, dragging me along with it and poked its tongue out to taste the liver.

"Yeh see, the cutie was jus' a bi' peckish," Hagrid cooed. He was smiling down at the beast like a proud parent witnessing their child taking their first steps.

"If only you still had the dragons," I said, relaxing my posture as the Skrewt ate and the caged Skrewt watched, grumbling through its chest. Hagrid threw it the remaining frog livers and smiled as it gobbled it greedily.

"I miss 'em. Especially tha' Swedish Shortsnout. Oh, Ella, yeh would've loved them."

"Seeing them was amazing, though," I recalled the first task, the grace of the dragons, their protectiveness and beauty. I imagined their scaly skin beneath my fingertips, the fluttering of their wings and their deep, emphatic roars, menacing to the attackers threatening their unhatched babies, but otherwise used as a greeting. I would take a dragon over a Blast-Ended Skrewt any day.

"Charlie Weasley is yer man to go to if yeh wan' more dragon action," Hagrid called, walking over to me.

"Weasley?"

"Yeah, the twins' brother. He was actually one of the dragon wranglers for the first task." He pulled out something from his pocket – it was smaller than the frogs' livers but just as slimy. "Here, Skrewty, c'mere gorgeous. That a beast," he called, throwing the object in his hands up for the Skrewt to catch.

"The twins didn't say anything about that."

"They probably didn' realise. I'm sure yeh'll get to see dragons again someday."

"What makes you say that?" I asked, digging my feet into the ground to stop the struggling Skrewt from pulling me away. Now that it had finished its food it was excited and energised, ready to fight the snarling caged creature.

"I can see a lover of magical creatures from miles away, Ella, and yeh have a real talent with them. Just like Charlie boy."

Warmth surged through me accompanied with a sense of nostalgia, as if I was ten years old again, arriving home with a new test I had passed, Bill and Nanny Anne's proud smiles shining down on me. Hagrid had always reminded me of Bill, with his large beard, protruding belly, Scottish brogue and twinkling eyes. Bill had a harder edge, a shell, almost, which you had to break through to get to the mushiness underneath, whereas Hagrid was all sugary sweet and laughter.

It had been a few weeks since Abigail's message and thoughts of my old carers had been entering my mind consistently since. The smallest things would trigger a memory: the smells from dinner reminded me of my cooking lessons with Nanny Anne, having to stand on a chair to see into the saucepan on the stove; the twins throwing sweets through the air, similar to the ones Bill brought home from the shop. Every sense continued to be stimulated and memories flooded freely. Hogwarts kitchen felt alien all of a sudden and the spot I secured by the fireplace no longer comforted me.

What would they have wanted me to have done? I had never been sure what career path to choose, always fascinated by different things: history, writing and animals being the foremost interests. Bill had teased that I could have been a chef if only it were not for the stress of the hectic kitchens and strict mentors. Funny how I now worked in a kitchen, in the perfect environment without the roughly yelled orders and abrasive cursing.

A harsh tug brought me back to reality, and the Skrewt charged for the cage, pulling me along. I fell on my knee, the skin scraping along the floor with a burn.

"Oh, shit!" I yelled, my arm burning, feeling as if it were about to be pulled out from the socket.

"Ok, tha's enough, Skrewty," Hagrid boomed, taking the leash out of my hand and forcing the Skrewt into the other cage. "You alrigh', Ella?"

"Yeah, fine," I nodded, stretching out my arm and rolling my shoulder.

Slamming the cage door shut, he clapped his hands and ruffled my hair. "Tha's great work, Ella, they're ready for the task now. All tha's left is settin' up the maze." His eyes widened. "Oh, should not have said tha', I should not have said tha'."

"Third task?" my arm stopped halfway up in its windmill spin. "You mean to say that that _beast_ is going to be used in the third task? Where they can possibly kill the contenders? And Dumbledore is allowing this! What maze?"

Large hands were held up in that damn calming motion again. "Now, now, Ella, jus'…forget I said anythin'. It was nothin' about nothin'." He nodded, as if assuring himself his words had been wiped from my memory. His hands fell to his sides and he peered out to the grounds as the bell for the end of classes went off. "Yeh should be goin' now. Don't yeh got a boyfrien' teh see?"

"Why, yes," I grinned. "I have _lots_ to tell Fred, what with him being good friends with one of the people who is in danger of dying from Skrewts. Thanks for that Hagrid," I waved and turned, ready to leave when his voice called me back.

"Yeh…yeh wouldn' tell Fred anythin', would yeh?"

I had to think about that. Of course I wanted to tell Fred, I didn't see any danger in telling him the little tid-bit of information Hagrid had let loose. But if news of the third task happened to get around the school then Hagrid's position was sure to be under threat. I couldn't do that to him. Not to the sugary sweet giant of candy floss.

"'Course not, Hagrid, I was just teasing," I said.

He smiled, his teeth gleaming through the bush on his face.

"Yeh know tha' can be altered to yer size?" he indicated to the Gryffindor robe drowning me, somehow still retaining Fred's scent.

"I know." I hesitated on my next question. "Hagrid, do you think you could get in touch with Charlie? I'd like to know a bit more about his dragon work."

He nodded. "O' 'course! Yeh be good now, Ella! Don' let tha' boyfrien' of yer's warp yer head."

I laughed, going back up the path to the castle. A figure stood leaning against the wall as I entered the Entrance Hall, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Hello," he drawled as I stepped in front of him. He unfolded his arms and wrapped them around my waist, pulling me in closer to him.

"Hi. Fancy seeing you here," I said, my hands resting on his shoulders.

"Well, I just finished a fantastically mundane Charms lesson and on my way to the kitchen for a little afternoon snack, I recalled my girlfriend saying she had a lesson with Hagrid. So, being the lovely, amazing, most handsomest –"

"Being handsome has nothing to do with what you're saying."

"– _most handsomest_," he offered a pinch to my waist, "and considerate boyfriend, I thought I'd wait for her. Not sure if that was the best idea, now, seeing as she's poking fun."

"Aw, poor baby," I pressed a light kiss to his chin.

"Mmm, you missed," he smirked, lowering his face inches from mine, his sweet peppermint breath blowing on my face.

"I don't think so."

"Ouch. That hurts, love. I'm going to need some loving to heal that one." He ducked down and his lips met mine for the faintest touch before I turned away, his lips sliding along my neck. It was an uncomfortable position: on the tip of my toes, head tilted back with Fred leaning over me, his lips attached to my neck. I felt sorely stretched and let out a laugh as his wet tongue and lips blew a raspberry on my skin.

"Fred! That's disgusting," he pulled his face away and stroked his lingering spit with his thumb. It was incredible how contented the weeks had made us, comforted with the personal interactions associated with typical couples. Our relationship was like a new pair of shoes, having an initial breaking in period before the perfected moulding.

"Come off it, you've had worse." We strolled down to the kitchen, his arm slung around my shoulder and mine around his waist once I'd wiped my neck clean.

"Uh, don't remind me," I scowled, remembering the previous week when he and George were chewing gum, blowing bubbles to enormous sizes. I had sat too close to them, realising it too late as Fred's gum burst on my face. A shudder tingled my bones.

"Well, I must say, green is most definitely your colour," he commented.

"I'm glad you think so. Where's George?"

"You see, dearest Ella, we may be twins, but if you hadn't noticed, we're not conjoined. Although, there was one time when we were little where we tried to magic ourselves together. George's crying alerted mum, she was mad about the scar the burn formed. We tried again, of course, only this time with glue. Mum was super cautious after that. Oh – but she forgot for a while, until the Unbreakable Vow incident."

"I don't want to know."

"Answering your question, George went back to the common room with Lee, something about Katie and her mystery boyfriend." The giggling pear popped into a doorknob and we entered the kitchen.

Dropping my satchel on the floor, I rubbed my shoulder briefly, aching from the weight of heavy books, and grabbed an apple before joining Fred on the plush chair.

"What mystery boyfriend?"

"That's the whole thing about it being a mystery – we don't know," he said, snatching the apple and taking a large bite.

"Has she let anything on? What House he's in? Year?"

"That's the tricky bit, he doesn't come to school. Angelina and Alicia seem to know who he is, they're always throwing around secret smiles and winks. And they don't bug her about it. Girls do that when they want to know something, don't they?"

My eyes rolled on their own accord. "I don't know, Fred, not all girls are the same, if you hadn't noticed. Oh - he might be the guy she was telling us about owling and meeting in Hogsmeade. Have you finally grown out of preferring green apples? You seem to be perfectly happy eating mine."

"Meh, can't complain. I'm not about to get up to get another one," he stretched his arms above his head and flung the apple core backwards. It thumped on a hard surface, and a glass shattered seconds later. His eyes widened. "That wasn't me. Peeves!"

"Oh, shut it," I swatted his chest. His arm around my shoulder pulled me onto him and he burrowed his face in my neck.

"Mmm, you always smell nice. Like...like vanilla and roses. Sometimes chicken."

"That's nice. Look, I have revision to do, my first exam is in three weeks."

"But you've just finished class!" he whined.

"Fred, I need to pass," I sighed, feeling his mouth begin their pleasurable torture. Who knew that such a trivial seeming part of the human anatomy could invoke such bliss? "Go and bug Katie about mystery lover."

"I'd rather bug you," he murmured.

His mouth kissed their way to my lips and I gave up the struggle, allowing these few moments to completely immerse myself into the kiss. We didn't have many moments to ourselves; George often joined us, bouncing ideas about their situation with Bagman off Fred, or to work on their products. Lee would accompany us as well, adamant not to spend more time with the girls as they tended to coerce him into feminine activities without his masculine backup. Several times he had joined us after his girl time, his dreadlocks braided with ribbons and flowery bands.

Hands dove into my messy hair and gripped it from the base, urging my head to tilt this way and that, pulling me into him more, sharing his minted breath. Senses frenzied and colours burst behind my eyelids, a kaleidoscope of explosions and fireworks from his hot mouth and roaming hands. It was a feeling of chocolate and strawberries, sweet and dark.

Eventually, our tight holds relaxed and our lips relinquished their lock. Our breath interspersed in the synapse between us. Without breaking our gaze, his hands lifted me from my hips and supported me on his lap. My knee grazed along his thigh and I winced.

"Ow!" I cried, my hand instinctively flying to the sore skin.

"Move your hand, let me see," Fred gently removed my hand from over my knee and inspected my jeans, now ripped with red painting the edges. "You're bleeding. How did you manage that?"

"Must've happened when I fell over from the Skrewt. Bloody beast."

"So much for you being saviour of all creatures," Fred chuckled. "I think you should go see Poppy, get that sorted out."

"Can't you do it?"

"Sorry, love, George is the one you go to when you need healing charms." I groaned, flopping back. "Come on, let's go, can't have you walking around a bloody mess all day." With a pat on the thigh, Fred jumped up, pulling me up with him and lugging me out of the kitchen.

"Fred, I'm hungry!"

"Then you should've eaten something."

"Oi! Don't give me that, mister. You ate my apple."

"If it helps it was shite."

Few groups of students stood around in the corridors and some made their way to the grounds, wanting to enjoy the spring sun before the panic of exams loomed over their heads. Walking with Fred Weasley garnered me attention wherever I went. I was the unknown girl who everyone was curious of, wanting to know who had caught the eye of the famous prankster twin. Several times I noticed girls eyeing me, sneering at what was presented before them. At meals I was treated invisible as they strode up to Fred, trailing their fingers along his face and neck, leaning in close to whisper in his ear. He never reciprocated, not verbally to them, but he would push them away and put his arm around me. No official admittance to a relationship, no gentle let downs. He simply let them believe what they wanted but made it certain that he was taken without letting on who I was.

I became the girl in the spotlight; girls wanted to know me to ridicule me – although they managed well in doing so without knowing me – and boys stared to see what the big fuss was. My presence at Hogwarts became comparable to an exotic animal in a zoo, one that no one knew even existed but were intrigued by.

A few days ago on our way to the Gryffindor common room we had passed a group of seventh year girls, three of them, all intimidating in their flawlessness. Fred had mimicked professors throughout the journey and by that time I was leaning on him from the pain in my ribs produced from intense laughter. Fred had shifted, probably noticing the girls, but he ignored them and continued his impersonations, moving on to Professor Snape.

"Hi, Fred," one of the girls had said upon seeing us near. She stood straighter, neatened her robes and smiled. "How have you been?"

"Busy, Melissa," he said, his eyes not even glancing to the short girl.

"Too busy for a hello?" she stepped in front of him, ceasing us from carrying on.

He sighed loudly. "Hello."

"Now, that's not how we used to say hello, was it?"

Fred jumped to the side, avoiding her hand reaching out to him. "Shove off, Melissa."

My hand was engulfed by heat and was squeezed tightly. I pushed myself into his side, hoping I would be hidden from view. The thumping of my ribs dulled down.

Melissa's eyes flared as they fixed on me. "Babysitting, are we, Fred?"

I had found that statement rather amusing seeing as she was shorter than me. Much shorter. But her face was more mature and angled, high cheekbones and full lips casting her as an enticing woman as opposed to a teenager.

"Melissa, not now. Go suck on Justin, or whoever it is you're seeing," Fred growled.

"I'm not seeing anyone," she purred, returning her attention to Fred. A smirk morphed on her lips, showing small straight teeth that were slightly stained. "Care to help me out with that?"

"Not even in my worst nightmare," he had punctuated in her face. He grinned at her insulted expression and swaggered past. I kept my head down as I followed, but found myself being on the receiving end of her glare.

It was a constant recurrence. Fred was adept at ignoring it much to my surprise but would always rescind their comments from my mind. He as good at that, making me lose conscious thought. It was both a delicious pleasure and a beautiful curse, especially with my first exams at Hogwarts just a stretch away.

We carried on to the Hospital Wing, Fred half dragging me as my leg grew numb. Madam Pomfrey was fiddling with bottles and cloths as we entered, closed curtains sheltering two beds and their occupants at the end of the room.

"Poppy!" Fred called jovially, as always was his greeting upon arrival at the Infirmary. The nurse sighed at Fred's voice and approached us.

"Mr Weasley. Ella," her tight, thin lips twitched in a barely there smile as she said my name. "I'm seeing far too much of you lately. What's the issue this time?"

Lately, the twins had been getting far too involved with experimenting their products, attempts at altering them turning out worse than they could have imagined, resulting in almost daily visits to Madam Pomfrey. I usually accompanied them, glad to have a distraction in the form of a vociferous nurse against the twins; it made more great entertainment. The twins were adamant she gave them foul potions and remedies purposely as a way to soothe the pain of having to serve them.

"It's me, Madam Pomfrey," I said, and her glare softened somewhat. "I scraped my knee outside when I was with Hagrid."

She tutted, not expecting anything else from time with the groundskeeper and gestured me to a bed. Flicking her wand, a tray flew to the bedside table. It had a bottle of potion, a bowl of water and a gauze. The hole in my jeans only showed a cut with some blood. She rolled the bottom of my jeans up, struggling to get it over my knee. I winced at the pressure.

"You're going to have to take these off," she stood back and pulled the curtain around the bed. Fred grinned at me, wiggling his eyebrows, his arms crossed until a hand emerged from around the drape and yanked Fred out.

I quickly removed my jeans, the process taking longer due to my hobbling, and I used the overly long robe to cover my thighs as I seated myself again, calling for Madam Pomfrey.

"Hmm, it's cut in three places. How in Elvendork's name did you manage this?"

Fred made a face behind her back, mouthing Elvendork as if it was bitter coffee.

"I was walking a Blast-Ended Skrewt and –"

"I see," she said, shaking her head. Dipping a cloth in the bowl of water, she rubbed it on my knee, clearing the blood away and leaving behind a cool sting. Placing them back in the tray, she grabbed the potion, frowning at the label. "I thought I had the diluted…never mind," she muttered. "Mr Weasley, I believe you owe me a potion that reduces swelling."

"Poppy! What are you implying?" Fred gasped. "Surely not that I _stole_ from you?"

Her small eyes blinked up at him. "Don't take me for a fool, Weasley. I will excuse it as an accident and not tell Dumbledore if you get it back to me within ten minutes. Not a second later."

He nodded and rushed out. Madam Pomfrey, although she would never admit it, had something of a soft spot for the twins. They were regulars in her Infirmary, had been since their first year. She clucked her tongue behind him and disappeared into her office.

I reclined back on the bed, rubbing my tired eyes. My sleep was often disturbed by late night studying, my first exam being History of Magic was just around the corner, before the rest of the school's exams. They spanned for over a month and I didn't feel near enough ready.

Dates and ancient names printed behind my blurred eyelids amongst the backdrop of deep purple and green spheres. A shuffle from another bed, and then a voice.

"Madam Pomfrey?"

A familiar boy was looking through the parting in his curtain. His skin was horridly pale, clashing magnificently with his bronze hair.

"She's gone into her office," I said.

"Oh, thanks," he smiled.

I closed my eyes again, returning to my thoughts, but the boy spoke again.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I know you."

His curtains were open now and he was facing me on his bed.

"Not many people do," I said. Then his name popped into my head. "You're Cedric."

"Yes, a lot of people seem to know me," he chuckled. "I guess it comes with being in the tournament."

"What are you doing here?" I asked, seeing nothing wrong with him physically.

Cedric scratched the top of his head. "I, er…promise you won't tell anyone?"

"Ok?"

"I had a bit of a panic and needed a calming draught," he admitted, keeping his eyes down.

"For the third task?"

"Yeah. Rumours and speculations are going around about what it could be. Someone mentioned Dementors, and I kind of took it badly after what happened last year."

I frowned, unaware of what he was talking about, but decided not to look stupid and ask. I would ask the twins about it later. And then Hagrid's words came back to me. Cedric had some colour back in his cheeks, a light pink from the warmth of the Hospital Wing.

"I'm sure Dumbledore wouldn't dare bring in Dementors. Maybe…" I thought about how I could help ease his worries without giving anything away; I was not going to betray Hagrid's trust. "Maybe you should think closer to school."

His eyes narrowed. "Do you know something?"

I shook my head before he had even finished and cursed myself for being obvious. However, he didn't seem to mind.

"Alright then. No Dementors. I guess I can breathe properly."

"I'm sure you'll be fine; you've been great so far." It felt odd, having an actual conversation with someone other than the Gryffindors. No one in any of the other Houses approached me. The initial feeling of suspicion cleared away and my discomfort dissolved. Cedric seemed wonderful. "There's still plenty of time until the task."

"Thanks. Tied in first is…it's something. I didn't catch your name."

"Ella," I answered, taking his outstretched hand. "Ella Wood."

"Any chance of relation to Oliver –"

"Yes. He's my cousin," I said.

"I would never have guessed."

Madam Pomfrey arrived back with quick feet with a glass in hand. She noticed Cedric and hurried over to him first, checking him over with her wand.

"Much better. You're free to leave now, Mr Diggory. Blasted Triwizard Tournament. It's killed people before, who's to say it won't this time, putting students in danger, of age or not is irrelevant. You'd think students dying in the past would get the message across," she rambled, kneeling before me again.

Cedric's face paled at the mention of the possibility of dying, a new worry to fret about.

"You'll be great, Cedric," I called out, feeling a need to reassure him. Offering him a small smile, I pointed down to Poppy who was immersed in dabbing my knee with the cold liquid, and circled my finger on the side of my head.

"Thanks," he grinned. "I'll see you around?"

I nodded at his retreating form and hissed at the harsh sting. Madam Pomfrey informed me of the need to dilute my potion, filling in the silence as she worked on healing the wounds. The reaction of raw chemicals and its strength to squibs was unknown in certain cases. Apparently, all squib blood varied in terms of its degree of tolerance to magic and herbs, and therefore we had to be treated carefully. The potions she had given me previously all had a low dosage of the actual potion itself, and each time she decreased the dilution, exposing my blood to more of the potion. Any irritation was to be confessed immediately, she warned, otherwise the effects could spiral into dangerous and harm me internally. All the information made me feel like a case study.

Fred arrived just as Madam Pomfrey shut the door to her office, put an almost empty bottle on the table and escorted me to the common room.

* * *

The scent of spices filled the kitchen, billowing out of the oven with the stream of steam.

"Five more minutes," I said aloud, closing the oven again and turning to the vegetables in the pot of boiling water.

"Hurry up, I'm starved!"

I glared at Fred and waved the spoon at him. "Shut it, Weasley. I don't see you being productive, lazy sod."

"I'm staying out of your way. Isn't that what you wanted?" he smirked, leaning his chin on his fists.

I couldn't fault him for that, I had indeed demanded him to steer clear of any trouble when I was cooking with the house elves. He had a reputation for poking fingers into the food and taking bites out of everything. Potions and Ancient Runes finished, I was able to return to aiding the elves with dinner.

"Thought about Oliver's letter yet?" he asked, peeling a banana and biting into it.

I shook my head. Oliver's letter had arrived the previous day, updating me with news of his Quidditch training and his family. He had repeated his offer for me to stay with his family once school was over, including a long list of advantages. Thoughts of spending time with them, with the remainder of Bill's real family, was tempting. But I couldn't bring myself to reply, for I didn't know how to turn him down gently. His mother, Eleanor, had written a little message at the bottom of the parchment, her words full of excitement and hope at the possibility of meeting me. My heart swelled at her pleasantness, and guilt ate me up at the thought of disappointing her,

But Ottery St. Catchpole was my home, the vessel that connected me to Nanny Anne and Bill where memories ghosted at every corner. The threat of Yaxley was nothing compared to my need to stay in my house. He wouldn't scare me away.

Once the chicken was cooked to perfection, I took it out of the oven and left it to the hands of the house elves and went to the Great Hall with Fred.

Passing the Hufflepuff table, I saw Cedric and smiled. He returned it, and, eyeing my hand in Fred's, winked.

"Flirting with the enemy! What treachery!" George exclaimed as we sat opposite him.

"That was not flirting, I smiled!" I defended as both he and Fred quirked an eyebrow at me.

"Oi, Fred, watch her before she jumps Cedric. We can't have another one drooling over Diggory," George said.

"I'm not going to jump anyone."

They both ignored me.

"Don't worry, dear brother, she'd be mad to join the Diggory fan club," Fred said. Food appeared on the table and they jumped to grab a bit of everything.

"You never know, if she's on a first name basis with the walking hair advert she's not immune to his hypnotism."

"Hypnotism," I scoffed.

"I'll be sure to keep her occupied," Fred winked.

"Oh, dear God why am I stuck with insufferable idiots," I groaned, covering my face with my hands.

"You love us," the chimed simultaneously, mouths stuffed with chicken.

A beat in my chest, almost as if my heart skipped in understanding.


	28. Meeting the Weasleys

**This is out much faster than intended and - on the orders of chocolatecheesecakes - I cannot describe this chapter as being long and boring.**

**(But it is.)**

**Thank you to all the followers/favourites/reviews! You're all wonderful. I'll love you even more if I were to have more feedback.**

**Enjoy**

* * *

28\. Meeting the Weasleys

* * *

The scratching of a quill. A gentle ticking of a clock. Sticky palms. A shrill bell. The swishing of robes.

"Your time is up," the drawl of Professor Snape's voice said. "Quill, down."

It dropped out of my hand. Pleasure coursed through my bones as I stretched my sore fingers and twisted my wrist. Thursday 27th May brought the end of my third exam, the previous two having been History of Magic and Herbology. Herbology had been relatively simple, even with the back-to-back first and second year exams on the insistence of Professor Sprout, mainly consisting of the preferred environment of Devil's Snare and its qualities and the traits of Abyssinian Shrivelfig, noting the medicinal properties in its leaves and the use of it in a Shrinking Solution. History of Magic had been slightly more daunting with the ancient dates and creatures spanning over several centuries.

I had come out of them alive and that was all that mattered, even though I always recalled an answer I had given, coming to the realisation that it was wrong. But I didn't worry over it – it was done, out of my hands. Leaving the rooms after every exam gave me peace of mind, reducing the stress as each was mentally crossed out of my mind.

Snape picked the paper from the table and stared with his black, beady eyes.

"Is there anything you require, Miss Wood, or are you too incompetent to understand that the exam is over, and you may now leave?" It was less of a question than an insult. His lips lifted into a sneer, and it was all I needed to grab my bag and exit the dungeon quickly.

The warm breeze was a great relief from the dreary dungeons that remained immune by the seasons and my body relaxed under the sun's rays. I didn't linger long on the steps outside the Entrance Hall, only allowing the chill to dissipate from my bones before venturing to the Lake.

Standing and throwing things into the Lake were the twins. They were both facing away from me. Their robes were discarded on the floor, their shirts untucked and sleeves rolled above their elbows. They were identical in this instance, but the watches and ropes around their alternate wrists alerted me to their distinct identities.

"Hi, boys," I said, wrapping my arms around the waist of the twin on the right, his arm lifted high, ready to throw whatever was in his hand.

"Ella!" they both cheered. Fred's arm came down and held onto my own, his head tilting to the side to kiss me on the head.

"Where have you been hiding all day?" Fred asked.

I unravelled myself from him, and, throwing my bag on the floor with theirs, sat on the grass. George sat beside me, throwing his arm around my neck in a painful hug.

"I had – _get off! – _my Potions exam today. I told you yesterday," I said, pushing George away. From his side he pulled a bowl into his lap. "Is that ice cream?"

"Mm-hmm," he hummed, scooping some on the spoon for himself.

"You didn't tell me you had Potions," Fred said, throwing whatever was in his hand into the Lake and then sitting on my other side.

"Yes, I did."

"No, you didn't. George, stop hogging it, you fat pig." He leaned over me, his fist swinging at George's arm.

"Oi! Shay pwease," George groaned.

"Give it here you sodding –"

"Ow!" I yelped, as Fred leaned too far over and fell on me, his knee digging into my thigh. Instead of moving, he straightened his legs out and laughed.

"Sorry, Elle," he said, his arms holding him up.

George was shovelling the ice cream into his mouth through his own laughter at watching me feebly push Fred away to no avail. In an instant his lips swooped down on mine, shutting me up. Even in the heat my body shivered at the initial meeting of our mouths. It was a quick touch, and far too hot to be so close to another body, but the feeling of his lips, his rumbles of laughter and body against me was just _so_ delicious. The moment he made to move my hands scrambled to his head, keeping him secured to me, and my mouth pressed harder.

We forgot all about George being right beside us, forgot the insufferable heat – our bodies creating a suffocating warmth that was deadly and delightful all at once – and carried on in our little blissful bubble.

His hand grasped my hair, the other trailing down my body slowly – a gasp – until it rested on my waist. Through the opening in my robe and over my shirt I could feel his thumb rubbing soothing shapes, stalking up so slowly along my ribs. My mouth opened, for some reason listening to nothing but instinct, and I felt the wet muscle of his tongue on my mouth, slowly sliding inside until it touched my own.

There was heat, _scorching_ heat on my stomach, fizzing and sparking. And then it was gone. George yelped.

Fred's lips jumped from mine, and they felt naked, exposed to the air once again, but my daze soon cleared away. George was on his back thrown back some feet from us, and his shirt was charred at the bottom, where a light fire could be seen. The impact from landing on the ground must have confounded him, but his eyes landed on the small flames, and he made an odd noise in his throat as he grabbed his wand, dousing the fire with a jet of water.

"What the hell was that?" George asked, staring at his brother.

Fred looked shocked, and his hand pulled his wand out of his trouser pocket. He held it out before him and stared at it as if never having seen such a thing before.

"Must've been accidental magic," he said numbly. "I haven't done accidental magic in years."

The boys' eyes were fixed on his wand for the longest time as my breathing came under control, my heart thumping consistently again. Then, they looked at me, and I could feel the prickle of embarrassment on my neck. George smirked.

"Isn't that cute," he cooed. "Ella getting you all flustered and bothered enough to do accidental magic!"

In response, Fred merely whistled and winked luridly. They both ceased their teasing when my fist connected with their bodies.

Much of the afternoon was spent out by the Lake thanks to the almost bare timetables of the twins, and we were joined by the girls and Lee soon after the bell rung, signalling the last lesson.

"Oh, don't act like you didn't find it funny!" Lee said, plopping down on the grass opposite us. He loosened his tie and threw off his robe, falling onto his back.

"What happened?" George asked, his arm going around Alicia's shoulders as she sat beside him, scowling at Lee.

"Lee thought it would be funny to charm Professor Trelawney's underwear to say something crude, and then foretell a sudden gust of wind that blew up her robes," Alicia said, and although she was glowering at her friend her twitching lips betrayed her amusement.

"Did you get detention?" George sat up straighter, grinning at Lee with pride.

"No!" Lee laughed, sitting up. "Bloody woman was _impressed_ at my ability to see what happened before it did. She gave House points."

"What about what it said on her undies?"

Alicia rolled her eyes at their antics and finally gave into her smile.

"She didn't even notice. Shame – maybe another Professor will get lucky," Lee sighed, then understanding the prospect of his words scrunched his face.

"What did it say?" Fred asked excitedly.

"_Bugger me here, darling._" Lee answered with a proud smirk as Katie ruffled his dreadlocks.

Alicia laughed, and only then did I notice Angelina was still slowly making her way towards us.

"Fred?" she called when she was close enough to be heard, but she didn't sit down. Angelina smiled at us in greeting before returning her attention to Fred. "Can I have a word?"

"Sure, Lina." He jumped up and slung an arm around her shoulders, leading her away for some privacy. I couldn't help but watch after them until they disappeared from view.

"Poor, Ange," Katie sighed, having watched their departure as well.

I leaned back on my hands, exposing my neck to the sun.

"What happened?" I asked. Angelina was not one to be easily distressed, not as far as I had noticed. Stress sometimes overtook her when she was worried over her studies, but it was overcome in no time. Her friends were all a wonderful support for her, and she was often the one to soothe them, not the other way around, Alicia especially, the most studious out of the group. Angelina was a strong girl, physically and mentally, and it concerned me upon hearing something was the matter, for it had to be something big.

But, I noted with shame, the thing that bothered me the most was that she chose to confer with Fred – _only_ Fred. Why not us all together?

"Her parents," Katie replied, then turned her attention to the lake as if those two words answered everything.

"That means sod all to Ella, Kates," George said, his hand playing with Alicia's in the air.

"Oh – sorry!" Katie apologised. She quickly sent a glance to where Angelina and Fred had left before turning back to me, her voice low. "She got a letter yesterday at breakfast. Apparently her parents' relationship has been growing strained over the years and they had a _huge_ row –"

"It did not say _huge_ row! There was no mention of a row at all," Alicia interjected.

"_Anyway,_ they've decided to separate. She only found out that it's been finalised. When she goes home for the summer she won't be living with her dad anymore."

Poor Angelina. I didn't know what to say to that. What was appropriate? "I'm sorry" didn't seem sufficient, it was too measly, too uncaring for such a big calamity. And now I felt even more ashamed to be so stewed over her wanting Fred to unload to. It was only natural to want friendly comfort in such a painful time.

"It's because her dad's a muggle," Katie said. "He's always been excited about the magical world, but it's obvious it's getting too much for him."

"He's a lawyer – isn't he?" Lee asked.

"Yeah, and her mum works in the Department for Magical Law Enforcement. They met when Mrs Johnson was shopping, I think Ange said. Hit it right off when he dropped a tin on his foot and she went to see if he was alright."

"They always sounded so nice when Ange would talk about them," Alicia smiled sadly. "I can't believe this is being thrust upon her just before we break up for the summer."

"Did she ever suspect this was going to happen?" I asked.

"No, never! Like I said, her parents were so in love with each other. Everyone's shocked."

"Fred's the only one who's met her parents," George said, eyeing me in a way that made me fidget. Was it pity? No, that was silly. Did I look as if I was focused on her being with my boyfriend more than the thought of her parents divorcing? How else would George know where my mind was straying to?

"When did he…?"

"Last summer. He went around her house for a day," Alicia answered, sharing a glance with George. Lee and Katie were giving me similar looks.

"What?" I asked. Why were they all looking at me like that?

And then Lee laughed.

"You don't have to fret over Angelina being out of sorts, she won't do anything with Fred," he reassured in his not very assuring way.

"I'm not!" My voice came out louder than expected and at an odd pitch much higher than normal.

"Ella, stop being an idiot, it's obvious," George rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, those two were never serious," Alicia shook her head, accentuating her statement, as if it were the most ludicrous thing to comprehend. "Nothing could ever happen between them. And besides – Fred's absolutely smitten with you!"

Their words did little to soothe my non-existent fretting.

Not long after Fred and Angelina returned, laughing and hugging as they sat down. Conversation changed to Katie's mystery boyfriend, of which little was divulged. The only piece of information that really stood out was that he was recently in Hogsmeade to meet with her. He was otherwise blurred into the landscape description of every other tall, dark and handsome guy.

Weeks went by and I was able to enjoy the wonders of Hogwarts with the depleting stress of exams. I had only two exams left, my final one being on the morning of the third task. Some of the professors had given me the leisure of choosing whether to attend my lessons or not, revising the course with them or on my own elsewhere in the castle. At first, I had decided to work away from the professors, but found my time being heavily monopolized by the twins distracting me. After that and my countless threats to them, I returned to lessons.

Abigail had seemingly disappeared apart from swift glimpses in the Great Hall where I enjoyed many of my meals now. No threats or warnings of Yaxley came, and I wasn't sure whether that was a positive sign or not. I could hardly remember much of the man, but what I did wasn't all bad. He had been a nice father majority of times – playing with me at night before bed, showing off his magic, showing _me_ off to his friends and colleagues from work. But as hard as I tried to remember the details from a younger age, nothing came. It was as if my early childhood memory before the age of five had been removed.

Darren was also acting a ghost, and despite his behaviour, I missed him somewhat. The few conversations we had were full of comfort; he had a wonderful sense of humour – less mocking and physical than the twins' – and was sweet. It didn't add up – his feelings towards my being a squib. And the more I thought about it, the more I realised that he hadn't actually ridiculed me.

But, a voice in my head repeated that spewed words oddly similar to a Gryffindor, he had probably been ashamed at having been so open to a tainted pureblood, to having asked a squib to the ball. Darren hadn't looked me in the eyes, and that had hurt.

Abigail had pulled him away. He didn't do anything willingly.

But he did. He could have stopped her.

I tried not thinking about the Slytherins.

The stares from all the other students had dissipated somewhat, but there were still those who felt it their business to know who I was. One day on my way to Ancient Runes someone had barged into me, and instead of offering me an apology insisted I tell them who I was and what affiliations I had with the Gryffindors. Relief came in the form of Lee Jordan cartwheeling down the corridor, and upon seeing me blew a raspberry at the fourth year blonde and dragged me away.

Angelina, on the other hand, was pulling Fred away during our times together more often. I understood it at first, when they all explained to me the circumstance of her home life that day at the Black Lake, but it gradually lost meaning when she would ask him to talk with a wide grin on her face, not an ounce of grievance.

Once again, I had to distract myself from thinking about things that would do me no favours.

* * *

As soon as the timer rang signalling the end of my last exam on the 24th June, I glided through the corridors that would lead me to the Great Hall. I was free! No more headaches over exam anxiety and preparation, no more late nights staying up re-reading words that might as well have been written in Gobbledegook. I could now spend the remaining week and a bit with Fred.

Endless possibilities of things to do in the summer flew in my mind. Fred would final be able to come over! We could watch TV all night, showing him all my favourite shows. I could remember George's first time, astounded at the moving images on screen. He had asked whether the little people lived in the box, and how so many people in so many different places and scenarios could fit. Would Fred be the same? I couldn't wait to find out, knowing he had never seen a television before.

Zoe and Nate would need to be introduced – to both Fred and George formally. They had been patient for years, possibly thinking I was crazy for befriending someone they had never seen or had ever heard of before. But they would see for sure that I wasn't lying. Mrs Brimble would also love to meet them. She was like a loving aunt, always looking out for me and caring for me whenever I needed her.

The heart wrenching thought of Nanny Anne and Bill never knowing Fred seared a pain through me, one that took quite some time to disperse. At least they had met George.

And hopefully, I would be able to see their house – The Burrow. Their description of it was poorly, always little bits of details on how rubbish it was. Their siblings and parents with masses of food laid on a mismatched dining table, odd chairs squeezed together to fit everyone around it. Perhaps in the summer I would be in one of those chairs.

Fred almost knocking me over in the Entrance Hall cleared the image from my mind.

"Oi! Watch it you – _Ella!_" Fred exclaimed, eyes wide and…frightened?

"Hello," I chuckled. "Where you off to in such a rush? The third task isn't until later."

"Yes! Right. The third task. That's where I was – George and I were just about to go and work on some more betting sheets. You can come with us! Yes, that would be great. Come, come. How was your exam?"

He grabbed my arm and turned me forcefully, pulling me up the stairs behind him.

"Where's George, then?"

"What?" Fred dodged past an excited second year, but I was too slow and he crashed into me. "Come on, stop slacking."

"You said you and George were going to do it." With my free hand I massaged my shoulder from where the kid had collided into me.

"Oh – he's, uh…coming. Went with Alicia to the kitchen for a mo, no worries."

His nervousness was obvious, and I would have shrugged it off had it not been such an odd reaction for Fred. Grounding my feet into the floor, I managed to bring him to a halt.

"Are you ok?" I asked. My hand went to push his hair out of his face and sit against his forehead. His temperature was fine.

"I'm grand. Why?"

"You're acting weird," I narrowed my eyes at him. Definitely suspicious behaviour.

He chuckled, bringing his own hand up and pinching my cheek. "You're adorable. I'm fine, love. Superb. Wonderful. Why wouldn't I be with you as my girlfriend?" With his other hand he brought mine down from his head and locked our fingers. He winked, and pressed his lips to mine quickly. It was hardly a kiss. "Now come on, you can keep me company before George comes."

His eyebrow wiggled, but his face froze when he looked over my head.

"Oh, shit," he muttered.

There was a man with fiery red hair, almost the exact same shade as the twins, but more similar to Ron's. It was long and tied back – far longer than his younger brothers', and his ear held an earring. It was no doubt that he was a handsome man, and only an idiot could not puzzle together that he was a Weasley.

Fred spoke. "Bill! How are you? Fancy seeing you here. What brings you to Hogwarts?"

Bill gave his brother an odd look. "You just saw me in the Great Hall."

I turned away from Bill to look back to Fred and crossed my arms, sending him my fiercest glare. "What's going on?"

His eyes shuffled between me and his brother. He sighed. "Ella, this is Bill. My brother."

"No shit. Why are you acting odd?"

He didn't offer an immediate explanation. Bill broke the silence.

"Fred," his voice was low. "A word."

Fred's arms went around my waist, preventing me from leaving. Could he see the embarrassment on my face?

"Wait here for me?"

"Why didn't you tell me your brother was here?" I whispered harshly, failing at pushing his arms away.

"Ella, please, I'll explain when I'm back, we're just over there, just," he swiped his hand through his hair. "Please. Just wait. I don't want you being mad."

As much I tried to stop it, my heart fluttered, but I didn't let it show. I gave him a curt nod. He grinned, pressed a quick kiss to my lips and strode over to his brother. They were both within sight, their voices inaudible. Bill was pointing, to me and to the stairs that went down to the Great Hall; Fred gesticulating wildly.

Eventually, they both came over to me. I tried not to fidget under Bill's gaze. He didn't look too happy.

"Bill," Fred said, an arm around my shoulder. "This is my _girlfriend,_ Ella."

I smiled and thrust a hand out to Bill. "Hello."

He appeared shocked, as if my greeting was foreign, and after a moment shook my hand. "Er, hello, Ella. I'm Bill, the twins' eldest brother."

"Must you always mention being the eldest?"

"'Course. Oldest is best," Bill smirked and winked at me. It would be a lie to say I wasn't affected. "You're too gorgeous to be with a hobgoblin like my brother here. Why are you with him?"

"Ey!" Fred went to punch his brother. "Git. Now you know why I was in a hurry to get away from him."

"Yeah, well, you can't hide her forever. We'll all be sitting with you guys for the third task. Anyways, I best be off." A quick wink to his brother. "Don't want mum having a coronary wondering where I've gone. See you later, Ella."

Bill's words filled the air even after he had gone. Gone back to the Great Hall. Back to his mother.

Fred was quiet and made no move to drag me upstairs anymore.

No wonder he tried to escape to his dorm so hurriedly. His mother, and most likely his father, were downstairs. He had just seen them, and, finding me just outside the doors to where they were, turned me away and tried to hide me from them.

Shame. Embarrassment. Anger. Hurt. Foolish. I didn't know which feeling blinded me the most.

"Ella?"

I gulped down the lump as dry as cotton in my throat. I couldn't meet his eyes.

"Ella. Talk to me."

Anger and hurt. Those were the two feelings most prominent in the moment. "I don't know what to say to you," I spat, relishing in the slight pleasure it provided. But it hurt more. I closed my eyes. "Go on and explain then."

"I…I didn't tell you because – can you at least look at me?"

I had to force my eyes open and look up at him.

His fingers brushed my cheek as he began to talk. "I didn't tell you because I had no idea they were coming, I swear! George is with them. He said he'll ease the idea to them so there's no rash reactions to when they do meet you –"

"Because I'm a squib."

He faltered, opening and closing his mouth as if the words would come out automatically. "Yes. Look," I went to walk away, or perhaps to turn around so he wouldn't see my watering eyes, but he held on. "They won't mind. Not in the least, I promise. I just didn't want your first meeting with them to be awkward because of them being stupid and freezing up. Oh, don't cry, it's all fine."

"I'm not crying," I insisted through a thick voice. The building tears were from my own stupidity. He smiled and held my face in his hands, and brought his forehead to rest on my mine.

"You are wonderful, and my parents will adore you. Now," he swatted my bum. "Stop the blubbering otherwise my mum will think I have a thing for damsels."

"I'm not crying!" I repeated. No tears had fallen, so it wasn't a lie.

"Good. Because you know how I hate seeing crying girls."

We trekked back down to the Great Hall, his hand firmly holding mine. Crying girls made me think of Angelina, and although I hadn't seen her cry, there were a number of times when her eyes were red when she came back after talking to Fred. And not once did he look uncomfortable with that.

Inside the Great Hall I could make out six red heads sitting at the Gryffindor table beside Harry and Hermione, four of them I could recognise as being George, Ginny, Ron and Bill. Without any preparation or motivation Fred lugged me towards them.

It was a feeling I could only compare to being thrown into a lake completely unprepared, taking in the tiniest last lungful of air seconds before being completely submerged. Bill noticed us first and sent a smile. Beside him was another Weasley male, shorter and butcher than the eldest, more similar to Fred and George. His hair was cropped short, his skin darker than the rest in an alluring tan. Realising Bill's distraction, he saw us next, and whispered to Bill. Fred cleared his throat loudly.

"Mum, Charles."

"Frederick," the shorter Weasley nodded.

Fred sent him a glare, and his hand in mine twitched, itching to point certain fingers up. "Dearest family, I'd like to introduce you to Ella, my –"

"I do hope you're not fooling around again, Fred," the older woman said sternly, no doubt Mrs Weasley. "Here I am thinking I brought you up better than that. At least you have the decency to introduce this one to us."

"What! No! What are you blathering on ab – I don't – didn't Geor –"

Mrs Weasley smiled, stood up and patted Fred on the cheek. "Of course he did, love, only joking." She gave him a wink before putting her hands on my head. "Oh, look at you! What a beautiful girl." She threw her arms around my shoulders and embraced me tightly. She rocked back and forth before standing back, her hands still on my shoulders. "Finally, a girl decides to stick with our little troublemaker. I'm afraid Arthur - my husband - couldn't make it today, but my other two sons managed to take time away from work, Bill and Charlie."

Her cheerfulness left me speechless, and it was only when Fred pinched my arm I was able to talk.

"Hello!" I greeted a bit too loudly. "Nice to meet you."

"The pleasure's ours," Bill winked. Charlie grinned.

It was awkward for a moment with us all staring at each other, until Fred clapped his hands.

"Well, I would _love_ to stay and chat but –"

"You are not sneaking away this time, Fred Weasley," Mrs Weasley warned.

"It's not sneaking if I'm outright telling you, now, is it?" Fred retorted, but shoved his hands in his pockets nevertheless.

"We're here all day and I intend to spend time getting to know Ella," Mrs Weasley said, standing tall before her taller son, her hands on her hips, daring him to defy her when he spluttered protests. "It's probably best you and George join us. You boys don't send enough letter homes."

"McGonagall sends them for us, mum," Fred grinned lopsidedly.

"She sends us all the mischief you have been up to! Come and sit down, now. You too, Ella dear, have you had some lunch? Here, I'll get it for you. _Fred Weasley_do not think you can sneak away."

Fred, sitting beside me, dropped his head onto my shoulder and stretched out a groaned. "She's a mad woman."

In spite of his words, Mrs Weasley smiled at us, and I couldn't help but smile back as Fred's hand interlocked with mine and he pressed a kiss to my shoulder.


	29. Life is a Masterpiece until Death

**Somewhat of a long AN here, guys, bear with me while I go Grammy/BAFTA (conveniently on tonight)/Oscar ThankYouSpeech. Or skip it, whatever.**

**First off, thank you so much for getting me over 100 reviews! That's...insane. I honestly never thought I'd get this many and from the bottom of my heart I thank each and every one of you (even though I do respond to all reviews saying thanks, here's another collective thank you!). I cannot forget my silent followers/favourites as well. Thank you for reading. Over 17,000 views! That's crazy. Mad. Unthinkable. Exciting. **

**Thank you to my parents, for introducing me to the wonders of literature and encouraging me to write the nonsense in my head from my left-handed, scribbling days (no longer left-handed. Not ambidextrous, unforutneately). And to God, for giving me hands and fingers and an imagination.**

**Too much?**

**In response to _CrowningAster_, thank you for the constructive criticism, I don't get enough, I hope the beginning of this chapter explains the separation of Fred and George during their childhood when George would go to Ottery and meet Ella. For all other readers, she merely said that she found it hard to imagine them being away from each other so much prior to Hogwarts. **

**Thank you to _zaneri0t _ (whom I have already thanked in my other story Mending Broken Souls - shameless adveritising) for getting me Microsoft Word on my new laptop! Without the help I'd be turning my house upside down for the millionth time looking for the disk.**

**Thanks to _sarahmichellegellerfan1 _for reviewing loads of chapters and getting me over 100.**

**And, once again, to every single bloody one of you. Hi. Cheers. Enjoy.**

**Possibly the last update until the end of June once my exams have ended.**

**PS. If anyone can think of better chapter titles for any of my chapters please share. Mine are bollocks.**

**Disclaimer: Bagman's speech for the third task taken from Goblet of Fire. JK owns.**

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29\. Life is Everything and Nothing

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"They were absolute terrors when they finally reached double digits – Fred more so than George. Oh, they were creating a new mess every day. I once found Ron in the chicken coop being chased by the chickens, crying his eyes out! Poor boy didn't seem to realise there was feed in his shoes. Or that the gate was open. He always did miss the obvious when in a tizzy. Oh, but punishing them was worse – an absolute _nightmare._ I had to distance them quite a bit, and Fred – the little devil – I couldn't trust that boy with anything. I'd send one out to town to get groceries, on a time limit, of course, and if he took too long, that was it! His dessert privilege – gone. But they never approved of their twin being left out. They always snuck some into their room to give to the other. The mess they made when I happened to make trifle."

Mrs Weasley had been keeping me occupied for the past few hours on a long walk around the castle, talking about anything and everything relating to the twins from the moment they were born. We were accompanied by Harry, exempt from his exams, and she would converse with him on matters in the Ministry and her son, Percy. I hadn't heard much of the issues they were discussing, so they whiled the afternoon away explaining everything until it was time for the evening feast.

The boys had departed long ago, running off to cause havoc and pester others, no doubt. They were not released from their mother's eyesight without a verbal warning accompanied by her trademark glare – including Bill, who had caught the fancy of Fleur Delacour, and Charlie.

Everything about the woman had been perfectly illustrated to me over the years by George and Fred. She was small and podgy, and yet she exerted a powerful aura, one that only an admirable mother could produce despite her shabby robes that were decades old made obvious by the frays and tears. Her laughter was the sweetest sound, the lines around her eyes lighting up her face with a youthful glow. Her red hair was as vibrant as her children's, frizzy and wild. But her joy was ephemeral, completely expected what with her troublesome twins running around.

We had taken a pause from our ambling in the courtyard sometime in the afternoon, joined by Ginny. After telling Mrs Weasley about Imogen's Bakery and all the sugary splendour she served, the Weasley matriarch had vowed to visit before beginning a new tale of Fred attempting to use one of his brother's wands to steal her homemade chocolate cake on Ron's fifth birthday. The faces Ginny was morphing and stretching her face into had me biting my tongue in fear of spraying my laughter all over Mrs Weasley as she animatedly re-enacted her scolding when she had found him sitting on the floor covered in frosting, licking the chocolatey substance off his fingers.

It had only been a matter of time that the twins would attempt to get past their mother with a devious prank, both to satiate their boredom as well as producing a reaction from her, making up for all the months lost. The excitement from the third and final task begged for a masterpiece from the duo. They were hidden from view, but the levitating water balloons was _such_ a Weasley twin display that Mrs Weasley had burned red simply from hearing the shrieks and splashes of water. Her hands fisted in her lap and she muttered under her breath, spitting out _devils, imprudent monkeys, twits_ and _foolish Neanderthals_.

Two stomps forward before turning back around.

"Sorry, Harry, Ella dear, I just need to go and sort something out," she said. Her smile was strained and her eye twitched.

"By something she means Fred's and George's deaths," Ginny murmured.

"Oh, it's almost time for the feast. I'll meet you in the Hall," she said, her feet shuffling towards the sounds of identical laughter. "Ginny, be a dear and make sure your brothers don't say anything ridiculous. I'll see you soon!"

Ginny clapped her hands, grinning at her mother's retreating back. "So –"

"Fred and George_ WEASLEY! _Get back here _right_ now or so help me_ –_"

A door slammed shut, cutting off Mrs Weasley's voice.

"Well, that lasted longer than I expected," Ginny said.

"What did?"

"Her not getting pissed off by them."

The initial shock of being suddenly drenched by water was overcome by the second years, the summer air having dried much of the moisture, splotches of shadowed colour here and there being the only indicator to the attack. Perhaps the twins would instigate a massive water fight before school ended.

"Reckon we should make our way to the Hall?" I asked.

Harry nodded, and we shouldered our bags. We crossed the courtyard and conversed about the upcoming summer holidays when I collided into a body.

"Whoa, easy there," came Cedric's voice, his hands keeping me from teetering over.

"Cedric. Hi," I smiled. "How you feeling?"

He ran a hand through his hair and then rubbed his neck. "Not so great, to be honest. I can't stop shaking, I'm so nervous." To show the intensity of his nervousness Cedric held out his hands, both quaking rather violently. "How 'bout you, Harry? Sorry about before – my dad –"

"It's not a problem, Cedric," Harry said, no doubt having heard Cedric apologise on the behalf of his father's egotistical behaviour numerous times. It was expected now. His hands too were trembling.

"You'll be great," I said, directing my comment to both boys.

"Can I count on you cheering me on?"

"Sorry, Ced," Ginny interjected, her arm thrown around my neck. "Gryffindor girls support the Gryffindor. We're for Harry."

He chuckled. "Fair enough."

"I guess I can try to squeeze your name somewhere amongst all the 'Harry's. But, with the twins around…" I rolled my eyes, knowing full well of the grudge they still held against him from the previous year's Quidditch match. Their personalities led to a carefree attitude, and the grudge had dissipated somewhat, and their occasional encouragement of Cedric could sometimes be heard.

"Well then, a good luck now should be fine otherwise I'll be waiting until I'm grey and on my death bed."

"Nice to know you think my brother and Ella will still be strong together by then," Ginny grinned, sending me a wink and a nudge.

"Good luck, Cedric. Have you eaten anything?" I asked, worry taking over as I noticed the pastiness of his face, identical to the ghostly pallor I had seen in the Hospital Wing.

"Would you hurt me if I said no?"

"Cedric."

"I had a pasty for lunch. I was just on my way to meet Cho, actually. Knowing her she'll force feed me something." The thought of his girlfriend tinged his cheeks with some colour and he shook his head, chuckling, knowing exactly how much of a lovesick puppy he looked. Fortunately, Harry didn't seem too perturbed. Either he didn't care or he was too focussed on the prospect of the task being so soon.

"She's good for you."

"Too good. I don't know what I'd do without her," he sighed.

"How sickening," Ginny teased, shoving Cedric.

He didn't linger much longer; time before the third task was flying past and Cedric was becoming shifty, anxious to be soothed by his girlfriend. We gave him final reassurances – I had to force myself not to blurt out anything about the damn Blast-Ended Skrewt he was going to encounter, having killed off its partner a while ago. What with it being left alone it was in no doubt desperate for some action. It had escaped my mind all throughout the day, and I had to think strongly before accidentally blurting out the news to Harry.

We turned, ready to make our way inside, when I was overcome with the sudden urge to hug him. It was quick and awkward, us both stiff at the unanticipated embrace. In a past year I would have conflicted with myself over whether to hug him or not, having met and conversed with him only twice, only to walk away and think it over some more, conjuring up all the possible scenarios that could have occurred. Hogwarts seemed to bring out another side to me – a bolder, braver me. Or was that the influence of Fred?

It was over within seconds, and we laughed as we separated.

Cho was a lucky girl.

The Weasley's were easy to spot at the Gryffindor table, their bright heads of hair standing out amongst the typical browns, blonds and blacks.

There were noticeably more courses than usual, and I noticed Harry playing with his food more than eating it. Soon, Dumbledore announced the champions to follow Bagman to the stadium. The Gryffindors applauded Harry, the Weasleys and Hermione more so than anyone else as he made his way to the others.

Fred grabbed my hand and tugged me along beside him on our way to the Quidditch Pitch. Mrs Weasley's eyes on us was painfully apparent. His presence didn't last long, as he ran off with George and Lee once their mother had turned her eyes away for a second. He pressed a quick kiss to my cheek, and with a wink flew off into the crowds.

The Pitch was loud when I arrived with Ginny, and we sat with the other Weasleys. The Quidditch Pitch looked nothing like how it usually did, transformed into a maze surrounded by a twenty-foot-high hedge along the edges. The blackness from inside the entrance, from what I could see, looked eerily frightening. Within the hedges held one Blast-Ended Skrewt along many other horrific obstacles.

Mrs Weasley was nowhere to be seen, and the image she had projected earlier of her spanking the twins during their toddler years surfaced.

"Ella," said the tanned Weasley, every bit as handsome as Bill, although less lanky punk and more wrestler buff. He held his hand out. "Charlie."

His warm hand engulfed mine. "Hello."

"So, you like dragons?" he smirked.

"How did you know?"

"Hagrid owled me and said he had this fantastic student with a natural talent he hadn't seen since the brilliant Charlie Weasley." Charlie crossed his arms, his biceps flexing, and from under his sleeve a tail of ink poked out. I had been wondering earlier in the day whether Hagrid had been in contact with the Weasley dragon wrangler he had informed me of. Charlie definitely looked the part, the scars of burnt skin paying tribute to his job alongside his build. Insecurity overcame me.

"Oh, I wouldn't say natural talent," I mumbled, brushing my hair behind my ear. A nervous habit, fiddling with my hair. I should have tied it back.

Charlie's hand pushed mine aside as he fingered a lock of my hair. "Hagrid doesn't bullshit. You must have some serious gall to want to work with dragons."

"I-I didn't say it was a permanent decision," I gulped. Ginny's gaze on us was tickling my skin, my shoulder burning to roll away the annoying itch. Bill's eyes were glued to the pretty French on the ground. Where the bloody hell was Fred?

"No need to fret, sweets, you've got plenty of time to decide. However, let me give you a bonus on choosing a career with dragons: you'll get to see me more often."

Sweets?Oh, his arrogance was so familiar – so condescendingly smug and…_Weasley._ And that _bloody_ wink.

I leaned in closer, the finger that was playing with my hair moving to rest on the side of my neck. "Oh, is that so?" I said.

Charlie smirked, his teeth gleaming from the parting of his lips. "Freddie boring you already? I can show you what it's like to be with a real man."

Ginny failed to suppress a laugh and covered it with a futile cough.

"Hmm, sounds promising, Charles."

Twitching of a plump, pink lip. "It's Charlie."

"But a real man would prefer Charles, no?"

"Not this one."

"But Charles is much more mature. And, it's the proper term."

"You saying my mum can't name her kids properly?" He quirked his eyebrow, but still, the smirk remained.

"It was actually dad who thought up your name," Ginny whispered, having to lean in to get our attention. Charlie's thumb began to rub circles, his coarse skin wonderful against my smooth neck, the feeling comparable to that of putting on a new pair of denims on freshly shaved legs.

"Bugger off, Gin."

"So, Charles, how would you show me the wonders of being with a real man opposed to a boy like Fred?" I asked.

He grinned. "Well, Ella, I'd first have to remove the poor judgements you have on kissing from no doubt swapping spit with my amateur of a brother."

The image of swapping spit was not an appealing one – it left an impression a slobbery, smooching toddler. Most definitely _not_ Fred.

"And how would you go about ensuring that?"

Our faces were close now, his breath, like the spices cardamom, pepper and paprika, gently blowing over my face. But before he could demonstrate his intention we were shoved apart, a body squeezing itself in between.

"Honestly, I'm gone for five minutes and you two decide to console each other with your tongues," Fred scolded, shaking his head. "Charles, I expected this from, but my darling Ella! Oh, how I've corrupted you into a world of infidelity."

He fell into my shoulder, loud exaggerated weeps escaping him. I rolled my eyes, his display catching too much attention for my liking, and rubbed his back.

"Pull yourself together, you big baby."

"Told you you were with a measly boy, Ella," Charlie said. He shuffled more to the side and gazed over to a loud group to his right – George in the centre, grinning – before hitting Fred on the arm. "Oi, what are you and Thing Two doing?"

"I think you mean Weasley boy."

"You're catching a horrendous sense of humour, Elle," Fred said, no longer crying but kept his head on my shoulder. "I thought my influence over you would be good, but alas, you're twaddle is too powerful. As to _George_, he is taking final bets before the task starts."

"Why aren't you with him? You kind of ruined my wooing."

"Because my girlfriend was being hypnotised by a fucking ape."

"Prat."

The brothers continued their insults for a while longer until Charlie tinged red, his words stammering as the range of profanities diminished before he repeated one, to which Fred whooped and hollered in victory.

The professors and champions appeared on the pitch just as Fred ran off to complete the final bets with George before returning, once again plopping down between me and Charlie, who I found to be rather knowledgeable on not only dragons but many other magical creatures as well as a few muggle animals, the more exotic and endangered that many wizards were unaware of. He spoke of his time at Hogwarts and his summers at home, the bond he had with Bill being strongest out of all his brothers, then with Ron, strangely.

"Ladies and gentleman," Bagman's voice boomed from the ground. "The third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, on eighty-five points each – Mr Cedric Diggory and Mr Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!" The cheers and applause carried the birds away from the Forbidden Forest into the silence of the darkening sky. "In second place, on eighty points – Mr Viktor Krum of Durmstrang Institute! And in third place – Miss Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons Academy!"

We all applauded politely, Mrs Weasley having seemingly appeared out of nowhere just in the nick of time. Harry turned and waved, and we all waved back, grinning and throwing our thumbs up.

"So…on my whistle, Harry and Cedric! Three – two – one –"

A short blow on his whistle, and Harry and Cedric sprinted off into the maze.

Mrs Weasley held her breath once Harry disappeared from sight, her hands resting on her chest and worry evident in every feature of her face. Hermione looked just as concerned.

Bagman blew on his whistle a second time, and Krum hurried in. Then a third, and Fleur followed.

It soon became apparent that the happenings of the third task would remain unknown to us, similar to the second task. Fred wasn't pleased. I couldn't blame him.

"You'd have thought that the bloody brains behind this would have figured out a way to keep us all occupied while they're battling for their lives," he moaned. "We could be working on more money making schemes!"

"They are not battling for their lives!" I chastised, swatting him in the chest.

"What money making schemes?" piped up Mrs Weasley, her head snapping over to Fred, squinted eyes looking every bit as suspicious as necessary.

"Nothing, mum. Just an inside joke," Fred said.

"Well, as sweet as that is I think I'd rather like to know."

There was a strange strangling noise coming from Fred's throat. He was saved from answering when a loud curse came from Ron, stealing Mrs Weasley's attention as she proceeded to scold him for his language.

"You got off lucky," I muttered.

"Yeah, think I'll thank Ron with a little present later," he grinned, and from his pocket poked out a little sweet. He quickly shoved it deep inside his pocket again, not daring to risk his mother seeing it. "Puking Pastille. Ah – I can just picture it now!"

George sat in front of us with Lee and the girls. It didn't escape my attention that George snuggled up to Alicia, and asking Fred had led to the revelation that there truly was nothing between them anymore, it was simply how they acted before their failed relationship. It was remarkable how they resumed normalcy so soon after their more intimate relations.

"They've been friends since first year," Fred had said, talking low so as not to alert them, his lips directly by my ear as if he wasn't talking at all – or at least not about anyone in particular. Every few moments his lips would graze along my sensitive skin, eliciting a shiver that did not escape Mrs Weasley. I would have been mortified if I had been paying more notice. "They snog and shag for a bit – completely normal, by the way, for friends to experiment with each other when they feel insecure or lonely – and you expect them to have this underlying, awkward tension where they can't look each other in the eye anymore? This isn't some clichéd story in a romance book, love. It doesn't work that way in real life. Not unless they actually loved each other and didn't want to admit it."

Words of wisdom were not usually associated with Fred, but it made perceptible a new side to him.

Friends. Angelina was his friend. Him at Angelina's house. Experimenting. Fred loved to experiment with potions and spells, did he have the same take with friends? He was reckless, so probably. Popular. Quidditch players. Athletic. Attractive. Gorgeous. It was normal. Her disappearing to places with him. Her being closest to him. Her laughing with Alicia at Katie fighting George and looking behind her to see him.

I hated myself for thinking that.

Charlie had left to talk to Hagrid, attracting the dazed eyes of many students. He had passed a group of Ravenclaws bunched up tightly, and in order to get through he had to squeeze between them. He had turned and winked at one just after they had made the tiniest jump.

"Not falling for my brother, now, are you?" Fred asked, poking me in the ribs.

"'Course not. You appreciate the better female specimens so I shall do the same."

"What better female specimens?" he asked. "I see only you, my love!"

There was nowhere to look so I cast my eyes around the stands and the professors. Many were conversing in whispers, eyeing the maze, unlike Moody who, for the first time I had seen, had both his normal eye and magical eye fixed on me. He had a frightening face, not at all the heroic Auror that he was made out to be, greatly scarred and weathered. The look on his face, his tongue darting out of his mouth like a hissing snake made me glad I didn't have to take Defence Against the Dark Arts. For the life of me I couldn't imagine how exciting his lessons could possibly be.

I could feel Fred shuffling, beginning as slight and then growing in intensity, his leg bumping into mine. Ignoring it was difficult, thinking he was just being silly for attention, but then his leg curved around my back and sat on my other side, his arms hugging me from the waist to his back. A giggle escaped me, his warm mouth, playful thin lips dancing and licking and kissing along my neck and face. A warm buzz in my stomach, skin tickling everywhere, but his arms held me strongly to him, insistent on not relinquishing his hold.

One arm moved lower, winding around my stomach, so slowly and lightly, coming to a stop at my left hip with a gentle squeeze. His other arm stayed firm across my ribs, then ghosted up higher, gripping my shoulder, and he pulled me – if possible – tighter against his front, moulding our bodies. Warmth, delicious warmth and hard muscle, pressed against my back, sending tingles through every nerve of my body. The hand on my hip lazily dragged his fingertips in a variety of odd shapes, his lips pressing a hot, wet kiss on the junction between my jaw and neck. An airy breath blew out of my lips, and I opened my eyes, realising I had closed them during Fred's ministrations. The presence of the entire population of Hogwarts and some foreign schools suddenly dawned.

"Fred," I said, but it hadn't come out nearly as loud as I wanted, my breath still lodged in my throat. The dreaminess urged Fred on more, thinking it as encouragement, and his lips playing repeatedly on that lovely spot on my neck – kisses, I had to remind myself, that's all they were – cleared my mind.

Only when someone cleared their throat Fred's mouth paused, but lingered for some time before hesitantly pulling away. I felt cold.

Mrs Weasley had an odd look on her face, a cross between wanting to admonish for such an intimate display in public – just kissing, not at all inappropriate – and cry and jump and sing in joy for Fred acting in such a way. After all, as I had been told many times, Fred wasn't a sentimental sap besotted with girls for more than a few weeks. The thought that he was with me caused a shooting pulse through my body and a thump of my heart.

We waited, quietly and careful. Fred was still hugging me to him, resting his chin on my shoulder having pushed my hair aside for clear access to my skin, his face tilting to lay against my neck. Her eyes shifted between us, warm, twinkling brown and delighted.

"Did I tell you about the time I caught Fred at home in his room writing a letter to Cel –?"

"_Mum!_"

They were drowned out in the sounds of cheerful howls and applauding from the stands. The conversation lost, we jumped up to see the arrivals and were overcome with joy to see both Harry and Cedric.

Relief. Utter, blissful and light relief washed over me. Fred's hands on my waist lifted and twirled me, the shock of my feet leaving the ground urging me to grasp onto his arms for dear life. Our lips crashed, elated laughter breaking through and mingling, teeth clashing and tongues touching. George jumped on my back, pushing me further into his brother, and the distinctive taste of blood poured from my cut lip.

We parted our kiss and hugged George.

"Who won?" I shouted.

"Who cares!"

"It was a Hogwarts champion!"

"Harry! Harry!"

Yells and shouting quietened the crowds, Harry, and another, and then the curious whispers of the students switched to yells and cries. We pulled apart to see the commotion, our arms never leaving each other.

The sweet relief drained in an instant, replaced by a cold fear, icy dread. My fingers shook, unbelieving of the scene – _no, no, no – _ice freezing my blood and veins.

It had only been this afternoon, hours ago, where we had been talking, joking about the task and cheering and supporting our House. He had wanted to see his girlfriend – were those her shrieking cries? Slapping her hands over mouth in a useless attempt to calm her devastation? – he had said she would look after him, encourage him in a way no other could, calm him, hold him, kiss him, his stresses and worries away. And now, it was her in need of him to kiss and hold and soother her pain away.

But he wouldn't.

He couldn't.

_No, no, no, NO!_

A hand on my waist clutched and pinched my skin. Was it Fred or George? I didn't care. But then the arm pulled me into him, the unique fusion of smells – sun, cheap, musky aftershave, smoke, soap – of Fred drifting through my nose, and my heart pounded, eyes shut, and I gripped him with all of me, surrounding myself with him, wanting to disappear back to our activities moments ago – had it only been moments? Fred was my escape, euphoria and sunshine personified into a human body. In my head I thanked God I had such a person all to myself.

There was no colour, none of the wavy and spherical patterns behind my eyelids that there usually were when I squeezed them, only blue eyes and red hair and freckles and a cheeky smirk and a horrendous wink and shy smile and bronze hair -

More hands rubbed my shoulders and back, and I thrust back a hand and linked my fingers with George's, his other arm holding Angelina.

Lying on the ground, pale and white, paler than ever before – from the time in the Hospital Wing to just before entering the maze – lifeless, still, handsomely numb, was the body of Cedric Diggory.

Cedric would not be turning grey after all. And his death bed, later to be revealed, was the cold, murky ground of a graveyard.


	30. Juxtaposition

**Due to the ending of my first exam (four left to go) I have decided to celebrate by working on a chapter during my weekend off studying (but full of housework and gardening and popping out to Homebase). It's almost midnight. I have to finish making my overnight cinnamon rolls now.**

**Thank you to all my followers/favourites and reviews! Special thanks to _Guest - Carter_ for your wonderful review because I was feeling really quite crappy and then voila! Your review comes on my phone almost instantly and I'm smiling. So thank you. And to everyone else!**

**Fanfic recommendations have returned! For you Weasley twin lovers, get your pens ready:**

**1) Nothing Personal - TragicBlackButterfly**

**2) Playing With Fire - Blue Kat**

**3) Resurgence - CrowningAster**

**4) A Fair Amount of Courage - Blue Kat**

**5) Dead or Alive - Politelycynical (Western AU)**

**If you have read/will read any of these please let me know your thoughts on it. These are all wonderful writers in both their words and characters, fictional and self.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

30\. Juxtaposition

* * *

"_He's dead! Cedric's dead!_"

From all around people were whispering and yelling, professors failing to subdue the cacophony of cries. It felt as if there was a thick wad of cotton in my throat, and I inhaled Fred's scent just as a whimper tickled my tongue. I needed Fred to consume my thoughts.

Sun. Golden rays of warmth kissing skin.

The musky, masculine smell one could only identify with men's aftershave, their title irrelevant because they all still bloody smelled the same.

The sweet burning scent of smoke from one too many burns and fires.

Soap. A slight whiff of spicy citrus.

Deep, smouldering chocolate, deliciously velvety with a hint of nuttiness.

It was an odd combination. But it was all Fred. All comfort and happiness and jokes and laughs and smiles and sweet kisses and tight hugs and hair playing and tickling and races and funny faces and crazy hair. He was a jar of Nutella personified, nutty and sweet and delicious and so, _so_ necessary. I clung onto him, every part of him, memorising every detail. He was the perfect diversion.

But then his sweet and spicy glory evaporated, like a vicious tornado carrying it away, and with it, my comfort.

In its place came the acrid stench of rotten, waxy flesh, stinging my nostrils and scratching my throat. Vomit, piss, shit, blood all blinded my senses. I lost Fred in the midst of the smells, and I gripped tighter onto whatever it was my hands were holding. I stopped breathing, not wanting to let any of the fumes inside me, taint me, like nicotine destroying everything in its reach. It burned at my exposed flesh. I was sweating, shaking and crying. A green flash.

There was heat, scorching heat, like fire licking my skin, in my blood, a pounding in my head – _trapped –_ no air, there was no air, where was the bloody air? More heat and suffocating like sitting in an oven with only hot air_._ Was this how dragons felt when blowing fire? Every cell burning, organs ready to burst, everything just melting and burning and –

A firecracker popped, the crowds screamed. Fred swore, muttering under his breath about stupid little kids running on his pranks, set up as a congratulation of sorts for the champion (what good use it was now; _congratulations Cedric and Harry! You're dead and you most certainly almost died too!_), scaring everyone, and then another firecracker went off. Everyone jumped and pushed harder.

Hands were on my face – _blissfully _cool hands against my hot skin – and breath fanned over me. My eyes snapped open to see beautiful blue, Fred's face inches from mine.

"Ella," he breathed and pressed a kiss to my forehead, then another. Students were shoving past, bumping me into Fred until we were pressed together. When his eyes met mine again his face dropped into that of worry. "Oh, hell, breathe, Elle, come on breathe for me. No – look at _me, _Elle, I'm right here. You're alright, just keep breathing for me, that's great. You're fine, Ella, absolutely wonderful."

I followed his instructions, fixing my eyes to his as I breathed deeply – in and out, in and out, less hot air – and my trembling calmed, my breathing controlled. The tightness in my chest lifted.

"That's my girl," Fred smiled, rubbing the pads of his rough thumbs on my cheeks and along my jaw, as if soothing the panic out of my skin. I loosened my hold on his shirt and rested my palms flat on his chest. "Come on, let's get to the common room."

He didn't let go as we stumbled down the stands and into the castle. His hand was firmly holding my own, and several times he had to lug me beside him from my waist when the crowd shoved us away until he veered off into a secret passageway.

We arrived at the Fat Lady's portrait moments before the other Gryffindors and seated ourselves on the plush sofa. Fred sat down at the end, pulling me in against him, but then we moved into a more comfortable position lying down, my back against Fred's front, his arms wrapped around me locked in an embrace. The embers of fire danced and flickered in the fireplace, and slowly the other students entered accompanied with noise.

My ears were deaf to it all, focusing vaguely on Fred's warmth and the image of a lifeless Cedric.

He was dead. He had died in the maze. Harry Potter, the poor little boy who led a life of misfortune, disguised as a hero, a saviour from baby years, had been with him – they arrived together. Harry knew who had done it. Was it the Blast-Ended Skrewt? I should have told him. I _knew_ I should have said something! That damn thing had been thirsty for action, for the thrill of ripping into flesh and slowly instilling pain and death. A tremble wracked through me, and Fred responded with tightened arms and a kiss. I could only imagine Hagrid's devastation.

But Cedric did not look as if he was stung by a Blast-Ended Skrewt, nor chewed up or shredded.

Had it…had it been _Harry?_

No. That was an absurd thought, a horrid and insanely stupid path to cross. Harry had been obviously distressed, and a boy that age would not have known any life destroying spells.

But then what? Who?

The fire flickered, as if a harsh wind had blown past. The windows were all closed. The room was stifling. And I was sure an image surfaced in the red and gold flames. Cedric, pale and empty and dead, was still on my mind.

"Hey," George whispered, and I realised he was kneeling on the ground in front of me, but off to the side where he wasn't blocking the fireplace. "You need anything?"

The noise had died down, but the usually spacious common room was filled in every corner. Lee and the girls were sat around first and second years with some other older students, all playing the part of dutiful big House siblings with comforting arms and hushed words despite their own fright, but I was sure everyone was more confused than scared. Every available space was taken, on desk tops, the floor and the stairs. I had never seen the room look so small before. It occurred to me that Fred and I were taking up quite some space on the sofa, but I didn't care to move. My body was heavy and numb, as was my mind. Everyone had more pressing matters on their minds.

There was something about everyone in Gryffindor being in one room together that wasn't the Great Hall. Unity came to mind.

No one wanted to be alone, afraid of the mysterious monster waiting under their beds.

* * *

"Ella?"

I must have been silent for too long again. Dumbledore was watching me, waiting for my answer. Hadn't I said it yet?

I cleared my throat. "I'll Floo."

He nodded. "Are you absolutely certain? I have no worries about you taking the Hogwarts Express. I can arrange for someone to meet you at Kings Cross to take you home. It will give you some more time to be with your friends, and a delightful experience to behold. You have yet to meet the, how do the students say, trolley lady. Word is that she has a secret stash of Chocoballs that she only gifts to those she really likes."

"I'm sure, sir. I'd rather go straight home," I said, however tempting the fancy chocolate was, I was not about to compromise my journey. I just wanted to go home.

"Of course. I will be waiting for you after the students have left for Hogsmeade station, and I will have Bonny bring up your possessions for you."

"Thank you, sir."

He was staring again, that blank look that pierced through your soul and mind and sifted through all your secrets without a second thought.

"Is there anything else you would like to discuss, Ella?" he asked after a silence of deep gazing and fidgeting.

"Like what?"

"Cedric," was his quick response as he reached out a hand to stroke Fawkes, and my breath stopped short in my throat. "I understand you were rather acquainted with him."

"No," I answered quickly. "We only spoke twice. Hardly knew him."

It surprised me how easy it was to say the words even though the message hit hard. I was right – I _didn't _know Cedric, not really. He was a nice lad, obvious. And modest and caring and handsome. A true Hufflepuff. I had no idea of his dreams and aspirations, his likes and dislikes, any odd food combinations he enjoyed (like George who had dipped his fries into a vanilla milkshake in Ottery – _yuck!_), his favourite animal, favourite Quidditch team, or anything that made him who he was, what sculptured him as a person. I didn't know whether he was a morning person or not, what hand he wrote with or what position he played.

I knew nothing of this boy, and yet I had spent days forcing distractions so he wouldn't be on my mind. It was fear, my mind reasoned, not actually Cedric that fuelled me. Fear of death right before my eyes, death's victim being someone so innocent and humble and young.

In the end, it always came down to fear of the killer. The _murderer._

"I see. Well then, how about your thoughts on returning home?" Dumbledore asked. He swirled his finger in a large glass dish on his desk before pulling out a sweet and offering it to me. I declined.

"What's there to worry about?" I asked just as the answer came to me.

"Your worry over Yaxley."

"Will he…do you think he'll try to find me?" my voice came out small and scared, much to my disgust. The suddenness of Cedric's death, my exams and Fred kept me occupied to the point of me forgetting about him, but I couldn't escape him forever. And even after all these years his name left me a stuttering, anxious fool. It was more than just him kicking me out of the house and using the bad curse on me that one time, but I couldn't figure out exactly what.

"There is no knowing what will happen, but with the return of Voldemort I have no doubt that Yaxley will not be hesitant in acting in any way. There is something about having a powerful leader that stirs peoples' minds and spurs them into action regardless of the consequences. It applies to both good and evil, and it is the beliefs of the leader that influences the stages of events," Dumbledore said calmly, as if he hadn't just mentioned the return of the most evil wizard ever, but the weather.

"So, there's a chance, and a rather big one at that, that I may be getting a surprise visit to my house by an evil psychopath who kicked me out of my home and now wants me back for some bizarre and unknown reason. And because his leader is sick and twisted, Yaxley will be too. So, what's the catch?"

He quirked a small smile. "Ella, I will not allow any harm to come to you. And the Weasleys are just around the corner. I'm sure the boys will be spending much of their time with you."

I had almost forgotten! I pressed my lips together to subdue a grin from taking over. That shouldn't have deterred me from my worrying – what would two seventeen year old boys do when confronted by a Death Eater?

"But what if Yaxley comes when no one is with me? How am I supposed to fight him off? He could easily do anything," I said. That man was beginning to be a bother, and nothing had yet happened. Not really.

"Ella, I assure you there is no need to worry. Everything is under control, and I will visit often. The last time I went to your house I had set up a few protective charms which should keep you safe. And you never know, an adventure may come your way." His eyes twinkled in a way that I associated with the twins.

"An adventure? Does it entail the possibility of me getting into battle? Because I still know where Nanny Anne hid her old cricket bat." The words were out before I had even thought of them, but Dumbledore smiled as if expecting my startling comment. My eyes widened, and I stuttered out an apology.

I had one last thought, one that urged my head down and my fingers to start playing with each other. "I'd like to see Bill."

"You mean…his grave?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes. I know it's in Scotland, but you could apparate me there. It's just…I never got to say goodbye."

A wrinkled old hand sat on my shoulder, and I jumped in my seat.

"I do not think it would do you much good, although, if you still wish, I will take you. But only when I say," he said. I felt angry at him for thinking such things, that Bill was just a puddle in my path instead of the father he was. He must have seen it on my face, because he squeezed my shoulder, asked me if I had anything else to discuss. I took a handful of sweets and left.

Bloody hell, what was _wrong _with me lately?

* * *

Lee yawned loudly, eyeing us all as he did so. When we did nothing, he yawned even louder, leaning in closer as if we hadn't seen him the first time. George glared at him. Lee rolled his eyes and focused on Fred, who threw a shoe at him when Lee attempted to poke him.

"What is up with you two?" he snapped, throwing his arms up before resting them on his hips as he stood. "You're acting like two bitchy old ladies who lost at bingo by the new tart who has fantastic, non-saggy tits."

In spite of his frustration at whatever George turned to Lee. "What's a bingo?"

"You've been like this for ages now. What's going on?"

The twins visually discussed their predicament. The common room had been empty, everyone in a mad rush to pack their things before leaving for Hogsmeade. Those who had already packed beforehand were strolling around the castle. Dumbledore's words from the feast had left a big impact, and yet not one word was said about it as soon as everyone left the Great Hall.

Hogwarts was differentiated along a spectrum, those who believed Dumbledore, and in turn Harry, and those who absolutely rejected the return of Voldemort. Anyone who dared mock the Headmaster in hearing distance of the twins were victim to humiliating pranks, and I wondered how long it would be until Fred and George snapped and upped the harshness of their attacks. It was only a matter of time. Those boys had terrible tempers and unwavering loyalty.

Finding nothing of interest to do in their aggravated state they came to the kitchen, both Weasleys stomping with frowns and Lee looking lost.

"Bagman," Fred growled out, leaning on his arms on the table. He had been playing with the burger in front of him, tearing off the bread and crushing it between his finger and thumb.

"What about that twat?" Lee asked. He had been informed of the Bagman fiasco a while ago and shared the twins' utter dislike like a true friend, as well his father being cheated by the scumbag.

"We ain't getting our money back, that's what," George said, throwing down his spoon with a mighty _clang._

"He's gone," Fred groaned. "He's gone and we only have the money from the bets we made which is nowhere near what we had before. We've got a lot of saving up to do. All our plans are ruined and we have to start all over again. Fuck!"

In a matter of seconds beef, mayonnaise, salad and sauce splattered on the wall. Fred stood up, paced the kitchen and then strode into the cupboard that led to my dormitory. Lee's eyes widened. He hadn't known about that.

George was looking at me.

"I'll see you guys later," I said, following Fred after waving my goodbyes.

He wasn't pacing in my dorm as I thought he would be, or sitting on my bed. His eyes turned to me in the mirror, only for a second. He was looking at the pictures.

When I stood behind him I wrapped my arms around his waist.

"Hey," I murmured, low enough to not disturb the peace.

"Wotcher," he replied, eyes gazing from one photo to the next. I didn't have many on it, but they each had friends and family dearest to me. George was in two.

"School's over."

"No shit."

I would have hit him with a witty remark if I knew he was in an acceptable mood for it. His face was expressionless. I didn't know what to make of it.

"Are you excited to be going back home? Back with your family?"

He hummed indifferently in his throat. "D'you know you need?"

"A decent answer," I mumbled. "What?"

"A good ol' spanking."

I unwound my arms and glared at him. His lips tilted in the smallest smile.

"Kidding. Although I'm more than happy to oblige. Someone needs to punish you when you're being cheeky," he winked.

"Shut up."

"You need a picture of us," he said, once again looking at the photos. "We can get one of the girls to take one on the train on the way home, Merlin knows George or Lee would drop the camera or tilt it down – the perverts. And you need a good one, what with it being with your first boyfriend and all."

"Oh. I forgot to tell you – sorry. I won't be taking the train with you guys."

His brows furrowed. "How come?"

"Dumbledore offered me the Floo. It's just easier, you know, not having to take a long journey from London to Devon, or quick but with a stranger. And this way I'd get to tell Zoe and Nate about us before you get thrown to the dogs."

But still, he frowned. "I could apparate you. I'm of age now, I can use magic outside of Hogwarts."

"I'd love for that, Fred, but you've never been to my house. It's better this way, trust me. Your parents must miss you. This way you get to spend some time with them. And you're probably sick of me hanging about all the time anyway. I just really need to be back home as soon as possible."

"I could never tire of your company. I kind of like you," he said, his hand rising to cup my face.

The comment made me want to squeal and swoon like a lovesick little girl. "I can assure you that you won't be saying the same thing this time next month. In fact, I'll bet you'll be dead annoyed of me."

He had moved closer – when had that happened? – and was pressing me up against the mirror, his left hand still on my face and the other on my waist. His right hand squeezed.

"Prove it."

His lips touched my own quickly.

"Show me how you'll make me dead annoyed by you. Because I can't seem to wrap my head around it, love."

He kissed me again, harder this time. It was the kind of kiss where my mind went blank and focused only on the kiss, the relationship of our lips and melodies of our bodies, so in tune and harmonious with the other.

"You're more of a child than a man," I said.

Fred grinned. "That makes you a paedophile. Next."

His tongue was soft and wet as it flicked mine. I giggled into his mouth as he trilled his tongue and lightly nipped at my lip.

"You're a pig. Eat like one and live like one."

"There's a word for that and I'm pretty sure it's illegal. But I'm not complaining. I have quite an aversion to rules. Carry on."

I knew the word, I had read it in a newspaper years ago, a story about a man getting caught with a horse on his farm by his wife, or perhaps it was his sister? The facts were cloudy. Fred was doing that _wonderful _thing with his mouth on my neck again, my brain fixed on maintaining my consistent breathing. His hands were moving everywhere, the mirror steadying me from collapsing from the rush, and I gasped at the squeeze on my bum.

"You…You're…"

What were we talking about again? I'd rather we didn't talk at all. His lips ravishing that spot on my throat – lips and tongue and wet heat and teeth – while mine were open, cold and lonely.

"Lost your thoughts? I guess I win."

The terrible horrible smirk was back in place.

"You're a fucking whore bastard."

If his expression was anything to go by Fred was just as shocked by the malice in my voice as I was, and then we laughed until we collapsed into each other and fell to the ground, leaning against the mirror side by side. He had tears in his eyes, his face a marvellous shade of red and his laughter wheezing out into breathless gasps.

"Oh, Merlin, and I thought you were the sensible one in this relationship," Fred said. He threw his arm around my shoulder, his fingers playing with my hair.

"Your stupidity is contagious. If only your older brother rubbed off on you more."

"Percy?" Fred scoffed. "If I was anything like him I'd be making you do your homework."

"School's over."

"Exactly. In fact, I probably wouldn't even have a girlfriend what with all that haughtiness and folded underwear and ironed socks."

"I meant George."

"Since when is George older than me?"

I tipped my head to the side to get a clear view of him. "Isn't he?"

"No. Did he tell you that?"

"Maybe. I mean it makes sense, he does seem calmer and more mature than you," I said, grinning at Fred's mocking face.

"You mean pussy-like?" He laughed and leaned away when I swatted his chest. "Kidding! But no, I am the older twin. I have a scar on my bum to prove it."

"That means nothing. _Fred_ – stop!"

I gripped his hands in his lap to stop him from unbuttoning his shorts, which only resulted in him tickling me under my knees.

Somehow we found ourselves lying on the floor of my dorm, cuddled together and laughing so hard at something stupid that we were in silent fits of tears.

"Oh, I love you."

Fred swung himself up, his legs thin with only a slight definition of muscle, and strode over to my suitcase and bag on my bed. I had never noticed his legs much before, but his shorts allowed a wonderful view up to his knobbly knees.

"You finished packing?" he asked, looking through my bag and checking my bedside table and wardrobe.

"Yeah," I answered, tense and frozen, wondering if the words I heard had truly been said.

"So predictable," he said, seating himself on my bed and grinning childishly as he bounced. He let on nothing unusual.

"Fred."

"You reckon George and Lee are still out there?"

Time passed terribly fast as it always does when you least want it to. It went too fast to even think of cherishing the moments, the simple touches, warm company, hard laughs. One minute we were in my dorm, drawing on each other's arms, the next I was walking the boys to Hogsmeade station. My hand, with a life of its own mirroring my hesitance to leave Fred, tightened the closer we got to the train. He would smile at me, make a funny face, and my worry would momentarily vanish. He would smile even bigger and then kiss my face.

We embraced at the station as everyone else was jumping onto the train, and Fred laughed, assuring me that it was only a few hours until we would see each other again. It made me feel possessive and annoying, but he didn't seem to mind. I only hoped those hours went as fast as the day spent with him had.

"Don't worry about the Bagman thing. You'll be alright in the end. You're wonderful. You can do it."

I had repeated it so many times, hoping Fred would cheer up. He put a smile on his face, but it still worried him.

"I'll come and see you as soon as I can, alright troll breath?"

"God, give me a minute to breathe, would you fart brain?"

Insults were swapped in order to maintain the light atmosphere associated with leaving school for the summer. He rolled his eyes at my rubbish term, and pressed a long hard kiss on my lips. The younger students around us gagged and groaned. Fred showed them the finger.

Instead of grabbing his trunk, he flicked his wand, levitating it ahead of him and dangerously close to a few Slytherin students. I waited for him to stick his head out of a window.

"There had better be a welcoming home party for me," Fred called. George and Lee poked their heads out beside his. Both stuck their tongues out and crossed their eyes. What idiots.

"I'll have some cake and a bottle of Coke ready for you."

The train whistled, the doors closed, and the engine chugged.

"And don't forget to set the bed, darling!"

The train started moving away. Lee and George blew kisses and cried out their farewells, but my eyes were stuck on Fred, who smiled and winked until I could see him no more.

Back in Hogwarts, I stood in Dumbledore's office, a handful of Floo powder seeping through the cracks between my fingers.

I was going home.


	31. Love and Evil are Everywhere

**Well, hi again peeps! Good news, exams are finally OVER so here's hoping I will update some more.**

**This chapter was actually going to be longer and involve a few more things but it's 5am, my cat's walking all over me, and I'd quite like to go to bed. Goblet of Fire has officially finished! Yay! **

**Thank you so, so, SO much to all the follows/favourites, and most importantly, the reviews. I love a good review. Hint hint. Special thanks to _Id65 _for being an amazingly cool PM pal who will be suggesting new chapter titles because mine suck (they are always the last thing I do and I think of them quickly to get the newest chapter out to you asap).**

**Enjoy the fluff! And don't forget to check out my one-shots and other multific Mending Broken Souls.**

* * *

31\. Love and Evil are Everywhere

* * *

Soot from the fireplace flew up my nose and down my throat, my coughs feeble in their attempt to clear the particles. When it subsided and I caught my breath back I looked over the warm living room, smiling at the familiarity of it all.

From upstairs came a creak from the floorboards, and I froze, my mind jumping to the worst.

Footsteps making their way down the stairs spurred me into action. Quickly surveying my surroundings, I grabbed an ornament from the nearest shelf – a large snow globe encasing the miniature Eiffel Tower and Arc de Triomphe – and hurried to hide beside the archway. I held in my breath, listening as the person got closer and closer. I shut my eyes momentarily, and both the physical and emotional pain I had suffered through from Yaxley ran through my head, firing my blood and energising my nerves. The person was off the stairs now. My hand tightened, and with the icy stabs from the Cruciatus Curse invading my senses, I spun around with my hand held high.

"What the fu –"

The girl jumped back, arms over her face and muttering unintelligible things. It was only when she lowered her arms did I realise who it was.

"Zoe!" I said, the snow globe dropping from my hand.

"Ella?" she stood up back to her full height and lunged. "You're home!"

"I almost hit you," I professed, stunned.

"Everyone's been waiting for you to come home, no one knew when exactly, which we should really solve. Surely they have email where you go. Oh God, you're back."

I hugged her back, squeezing her as if it would reacquaint the feel of her body. Her hair still smelled of the same coconut shampoo.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

She groaned. "Kiwi's been gone for a few days again and I thought I'd check here. God knows how she keeps getting in, but she ran out as soon as I came in, then I popped into the loo for a wee and now you're here!"

"I missed you," I whispered into her hair.

"You silly cow, you shouldn't have left then," she chuckled. "I missed you too."

We separated and laughed at our soppiness. It wasn't long before she had me seated on the sofa and updating her on my life in Scotland. She reciprocated by informing me of every new – and old – development over the months. Hours, it seemed, were spent with us catching up over a Chinese from the new takeaway just doors down, but it seemed like minutes.

She had finally finished her exams, as well as Nate, concluding their academic years in Ottery, and they had been maintaining the shop along with a few others in their spare time, and I could not have been more thankful. Mrs Brimble had spent the most time there when her kids were in school and college, working on the finances and stock as well as special holiday products and decorations. My heart soared for my aunt, for that was what I considered her. I couldn't wait to see her.

The conversation swiftly turned to new friends, Zoe asking me about George and his evil twin (I had yet to inform her of our new rapport). The chopsticks in my hand held a noodle over my open mouth which promptly fell when Zoe shrieked.

There, sprawled on her lap, was none other than Fred Weasley.

"Whoops. Sorry," Fred said, jumping off of Zoe and grinning sheepishly. "Wrong target."

His weight then fell on me. "That's more like it! Alright, Elle?"

Zoe was breathing heavily, her eyes wide and confused. "What? How did you get in here? You just appeared on my lap! Ella, he just fell on my lap – from nowhere!"

"Bit excited that one, isn't she?" Fred whispered, leaning back away from her and further into me.

I was utterly speechless but managed to push him off me.

"What the hell are you doing?" I hissed.

"I told you I'll come and see you in a couple of hours. I think four hours is a decent enough gap of time of you not seeing this sexy face. You got the bed ready yet? Phwar, I'm famished. Where's the cake?" He asked, rubbing his hands together. "What?"

Zoe was still trembling, eyes fixed on Fred. I rubbed her shoulders, murmuring into her ear, although it seemed that anything I said fell on deaf ears.

"How could you just apparate in here? Did you not think I could have muggles around?" I questioned, enraged at his carelessness.

"Not really," he shrugged.

"Fred! This is serious, you could get into big trouble for this – we both could."

"I'll just _obliviate_ her then," he said, pulling out his wand. This only caused Zoe to jump back as a strangled groan left her lips.

"You will do no such thing."

"Then what – you're just going to tell her?"

I ran my hand through my hair. "I'm going to have to."

He made to argue against it but was silenced with a glare. I moved from behind Zoe to crouching down in front of her.

"Zoe, you need to listen to me very carefully," I said. She averted her eyes from the idiotic ginger and met my gaze. "Now, what you just saw, you can't tell anyone, okay? Yes, he did come out of nowhere, but that's because he used magic."

It took a few moments for the information to process in her mind, and her lips quirked, and she laughed shakily.

"Oh, you!" she chuckled, shoving me lightly on the shoulder. "That's a good one. A nice new joke to play on me after all this time. So what, you do illusions?"

Her question was directed at Fred who looked at her as if she was crazy. Her disbelief had me hoping we would get through this with her thinking this was a prank. Illusions! How brilliant. Yes, we could definitely play on that. And this way there would be no worry of her knowing about real magic, no fear of any officials finding out and probing us on why and how she knew.

"Uh – no. Ella just said I did magic. Here, I'll do it again."

I could have slapped him. She had given him a key to escape from the cage imprisoning him (and me) only for him to ignore her and apparate, appearing behind her with a, "Boo!"

She yelled again, only this time she fell on the floor and shuffled back on her hands until she hit the opposite wall.

"Oh, I could kill you right now," I muttered through gritted teeth.

"Ella! What the hell?" Zoe screamed.

My hands flew up to rub my temples.

"Zo, just calm down. It's alright, he won't hurt you," I attempted to placate her over Fred's laughter. I knelt on the ground and held her hands. "He's a wizard, an honest to God real wizard. There are loads of them, all over the world. Bill – he was a wizard, that's why he kept disappearing for ages, because he had to go and do magicky, wizarding stuff. And Bill was alright, wasn't he? Perfectly normal."

"Except for the fact that he apparently could pull an actual bunny out of a cap without a fucking costume," she retorted, returning her gaze to Fred, still roaring with maniacal laughter. "What's up with him?"

"He's a dick, ignore him. How are you now?"

She sighed. Her trembling had ceased and she smiled. "I'm alright. Whoa. Magic! Why didn't you tell me before?"

"It's not allowed. It could be very dangerous if muggles – non-magical folk – knew. And not all wizards and witches are good. Just like us."

Zoe nodded, staring at the carpet thoughtfully, but then her head snapped up. "Us? You mean you can't use magic?"

I shook my head and opened my mouth to reply but it was Fred's voice that spoke next.

"There are all sorts of types of magical folk. There are the purebloods, like me whose entire family have been able to do magic. Then there are the half-bloods, those who have one magical parent and one muggle, and the muggleborns, magical people whose parents were muggles," he said, listing them off on his fingers.

"So what are you then?" Zoe asked, her face portraying wariness of Fred. I couldn't blame her.

"I'm none of the above. Sometimes magical couples have children who can't do magic – at all." I held my arms out to the sides and smiled. "That's me. Ella the squib."

"Squib?"

"Squib."

"Quite appropriate – I always thought you were a walking satire of corruption and vanity because of your bloody sarcasm," she chuckled. "Your rants about Maggie Thatcher were always brilliant."

"Wicked witch who's not actually a witch?" Fred called from the sofa. We both nodded and laughed.

"If you're real parents can do magic and you can't –"

"Is that why I was kicked out?" I finished for her. "Yeah."

She huffed. "What arseholes."

"Tell me about it, girl," Fred concurred.

"So, wizard, huh?" Zoe said. He grinned in response. "Well, tell me all about it then!"

"Be nice, Fred, I'm sitting right here and won't tolerate any lies about how manly and butch you were as an eleven year old by getting into Hogwarts through battling a giant," I warned, rolling my eyes. I couldn't believe I had almost fallen for that.

He pouted as if I had just rejected him an ice cream cone from the local Mr Whippy van.

"Fred!" Zoe yelled, her finger pointed at Fred's face. "You're Fred?"

He eyed her and nodded slowly. He was awarded with a cushion to the face.

"You're such a shit."

I couldn't help but laugh.

"Oi! That's a bit harsh, chicken shit," he countered.

The instantaneous result of nostrils flaring and teeth grinding had me fearful even though I was not on the receiving end of it. It appeared Fred understood the signs. He gulped. He was in for it now.

* * *

It was near midnight when Zoe had left. I sighed and collapsed back onto the sofa.

Scared, dubious, bewildered, excited. Zoe had managed to cover the entire spectrum of emotions in the space of an hour, and then proceeded to probe into wizarding life for the next few. She was identical to an animated child in a zoo, and just like the child her questions were never ending and pinched my mind as fatigue threatened to take over, prevented only from her enquiries.

Hands worked the tense muscles of my calves propped up on the coffee table. More air blew out of my mouth, but this time from blissful relief. Fingers and thumbs pressed into my skin and massaged thoroughly. I felt it travel from my ankles and up to my knees and thighs where they stopped. Fred leaned beside me and kissed my cheek.

"What's there to eat?" he whispered between kisses.

I turned to stare at him to which he grinned toothily until his eyes squeezed shut. "There's Chinese in the kitchen, help yourself."

With a final kiss he jumped up and sorted himself a plate, returning quickly. The sight of chopsticks in his hands held my sleepiness at bay.

Fred attempting to eat with chopsticks was the funniest thing I had ever seen. The sticks separated easily enough, but he couldn't hold them together in one hand without one falling.

"Do you need help?" I asked, although it was less of a sincere offer to help than mockery.

He noticed and squinted his eyes at me. "No, I've got this."

He fumbled with the chopsticks a while longer, my amusement growing. I snatched them out of his hand and used them to pick up a chunk of chicken, all the while detecting his eyes on the arrangement of my fingers around the wooden sticks. After popping the chicken in my mouth I handed him back the chopsticks, but even with my show of using them, he could not successfully hold them together.

Eventually, he stabbed a piece of meat with the end and ate it.

"Stupid sticks," he muttered through his chewing. "How the hell do you do that?"

"Nanny Anne taught me how. It took me weeks to learn to do it properly though," I said, using my fingers to place his own accurately. "Bill had given up and refused to use them, always made sure he had a fork ready before the food came."

Fred's fingers securely holding them, he slowly picked up a noodle and lifted it to his mouth. But the movement was too slow for his liking, and he opted for a fork instead.

"You know, you shouldn't have been so careless with using magic in front of Zoe and then brushing it off," I said when Fred had cleared half of his plate.

"It was only Zoe, and she's your best friend. You trust her, I trust her. If it wasn't her then I wouldn't have been so negligent," he said. "At least now you don't have to hide it from her. And it seems I passed the best friend test…finally."

I smiled. The thought of Zoe knowing about the secret I had hidden from her from the moment I met her lifted the burden on my shoulders. She knew all about the wizarding world now, or what we managed to tell in the few hours we spent with her. She had promised not to tell anyone, including Nate. Would I be able to tell him as well one day? I wasn't sure. Even now I was expecting a Ministry official to pop into the room at any moment.

"How's your family?" I asked, reclining back on the sofa once more with my knees curled up.

"They're fine, as batty as ever. Why?"

"Can I not ask? You went home and I was just wondering how they were is all."

Fred smiled. "It's not a bad thing. I just never expected them to be important enough to be on your mind. It's not like many others girls care."

"I'm not like many other girls, am I? And I love your family. They're wonderful. Sod all your other exes."

He licked the remnants of sauce and crumbs from the plate before placing it down on the coffee table.

"I don't care if you've never had a Chinese before, you are such an animal," I chuckled, feeling Fred wrap his arms around me and his head rest on my shoulder.

"I've never actually had any exes meet my family, if you could call them that. I never liked them much anyway, but mum always found out somehow and hounded me about it when I got home and was single and free."

"Single and free? What are you now – detained?"

His lips pressed against the skin of my neck. "Of course, only I have yet to see any handcuffs."

I pushed him off me and sat up, grinning.

"Well then, I'm afraid to disappoint you but there is no such kinkiness in this house," I said solemnly.

"Shame, I was hoping for the whole prisoner experience. Do I at least get a tour of the famous Wood residence?" he asked, wiping away a non-existent tear.

"Really? I'm tired and need to sleeeeeeep!"

"Come on, woman, it won't take a tick, I need to know the area in which I'll be locked up," he urged, pulling me up by my hands.

It had taken far longer than a tick. The first room we ventured into was the kitchen, where Fred insisted on looking through the fridge and helped himself to some coca cola. I hurried through the rest of the rooms, not that there were many, until we reached mine.

As soon as I opened the door Fred made a show of looking around at everything before jumping on the bed facedown.

"Oh, Merlin, this is a good bed," came his voice, garbled from the obstruction of the pillow under his mouth.

"Yes, it is. Now move," I ordered, swatting his leg.

He rolled over and leaned up on his arms. With a raised eyebrow and a smirk, he said: "Or else what?"

"Seriously, Fred, it's late, you should be going home now."

He fell back, extending his arms out. "You know what would make this bed even better? You in it with me."

"You are so annoying."

"It's one of my better qualities."

"Alright, well, I'm off to have a shower and when I'm out I expect you to be gone," I said, grabbing my pyjamas out of my bag and a towel. A chaste kiss was lengthened when his hand held my face to his.

As I reached the door Fred called out. "Hey, what Abi said back in Hogwarts, about your dad, you'll be okay here, won't you?"

"Of course I will be," I assured, although doubt niggled at the back of my mind. I honestly had no idea.

"You want to tell me anything?"

I thought about it for a moment before deciding I was too tired to have this conversation. I shook my head. "Not now. I'll see you tomorrow."

The knobs were quite stiff when I entered the shower from months of disuse, and the water took a while to heat up, but I was able to have a satisfying shower that I spent much of just standing under the spray of water until my hands shrivelled. Leaving my hair wet, I dressed in my pyjamas and stumbled back into my bedroom, making sure to turn all the lights off.

I shut the door and turned on my bedside lamp. Fred was still spread out on my bed, snoring lightly. He looked so peaceful, his red hair tousled and his face clear of any mischief and flirtation. I smiled down at him and softly pushed his hair back. I didn't want to have to wake him but surely his mother would be worried.

"Fred," I whispered into his ear, shaking him lightly. "Fred, wake up."

He shuffled in his sleep, but his eyes remained closed. "Tha you, luff?"

"Fred, your mum's going to be worried, you should apparate home."

He mumbled some more, his face scrunched up and pressing into the pillow. Without looking he lifted his arm and grabbed my hand, pulling me down onto the bed and wrapping himself around me.

"Shleep."

I giggled softly. He was warm and soft and incredibly comfortable, and I was tired. Mrs Weasley would be fine knowing Fred was with me for the night. I would go see her tomorrow and tell her myself. Yes, I'll go to the Burrow and immerse myself into the home life of the Weasleys.

* * *

It was stuffy when I woke up in my room, in my home in Ottery, cocooned in an unbearable heat under the thick blanket. It felt like waking up from an afternoon nap in an alien world with no sense of time. My hair tickled my nose, arousing involuntarily twitches. I shoved it away from my face.

The blanket was heavy and stayed put over my fumbling arms and legs, too tangled to push it away orderly.

"Mmmnnn."

I sighed, stalling my movements for a moment. The sheets ruffled and a leg rubbed against mine gently before hooking over it. I tried moving the covers back again.

"Mmmfff, shtop."

The groan made me smile. "Hm?"

"Shleep."

An arm weighed down on top of the blanket and pulled me into the body behind.

"Your hair's in my face," I said, blinking harshly as a few strands fell over it.

He groaned again and nuzzled his face further against the back of my head, his hair still ghosting the skin of my cheek. I sighed louder and shut my eyes, falling back into the body behind. Sounds of morning commuters and shoppers entered through the single glazed windows, accompanied by the singing birds and cars.

"Fred," I said, "I need to get up."

"No you don't," he murmured behind my ear. "Stay."

"I need to pee."

"Later," he pulled me closer.

"How long have we been asleep for? I don't know what time it is and you need to tell your mum where you've been all night."

"Don't care."

I chuckled in spite of myself and felt the uncomfortable tension in my bladder again. "I reeaaallllyyyy need to pee!"

He did not say anything and I could almost feel him smile behind me.

"Fred! Please, I'm desperate."

"Go on then," he said.

"I can't! Let go."

During my fidgeting I must have kicked him, but I didn't dwell on where as he removed his arms and I ran out of bed and to the bathroom.

"I've got a lot to do today, Fred so you had better get a move on. Actually, will I be able to get to see your family sometime today?" I called as I made my way down the stairs and to the kitchen, my stomach growling.

"Or his family can come to you!"

I jumped at George's voice, and only then did I register the smell of eggs and toast. George was seated at the small dining table, a cheeky grin on his face, and standing by the stove was Mrs Weasley.

"Ella, dear!" Mrs Weasley greeted, leaving her post for a moment to give me a hug. "It's so good to see you. I'm sorry to turn up announced so early but when Fred didn't come down for breakfast George told me where to find him. You were still asleep so I thought I'd whip you up something to eat."

"Oh, thank you. You didn't need to," I said, sitting down at the table, trying to ignore George's suggestive winks. "I tried to get Fred to go home last night but he ended up falling asleep and I couldn't move him, I'm sorry."

"Don't you worry, I'll have words with him," she assured, placing a plate of food in front of me. "You just enjoy your breakfast. I'm sure you have lots to do now that you're back home."

I nodded and ate my food quietly, only pausing to kick George in the shin when he made a particularly loud groaning noise. Fred stumbled in not long after, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and stopped as soon as he saw his mother and twin, his eyes widening as big as tennis balls.

"Mum! What are you doing here?"

Instead of the sweet smile she gave to me, she set a glare on Fred, her hands on her hips.

"What am I doing here? The question is, young man, what are you doing here? I expected you to leave yesterday, _not _sneak out, but to spend all night here without telling me? How irresponsible of you! Especially after what has just occurred in Hogwarts, or did you forget?"

Everyone was silent, as if the thought of Cedric dying by Voldemort was old news and had not happened weeks before. I tilted my head down, recalling the screams, the cries, his pale, lifeless body and empty eyes. How could we forget? And in that statement the full extent to Mrs Weasley's worry showed, the bags under her eyes heavy in the morning light shining through the windows.

"I'm sorry, mum. It won't happen again," Fred apologised, holding his arms out and engulfing his mother in a hug. She patted his back a few times before shoving him away.

"You better be sure it doesn't. Now go and eat. I didn't come over to take you home on an empty stomach."

George whistled as Fred sat down, and the two shared a smirk. I rolled my eyes.

"Mrs Weasley? I was going to visit everyone today and was wondering whether you would you care to accompany me to the bakery today?" I asked.

"Oh, of course! Good thing I brought some of that muggle money Arthur has lying around the house. Perhaps we could visit some of the other stores as well?"

The twins groaned simultaneously and informed their mother they would be going home after breakfast.

The walk to Imogen's Bakery was filled with greetings from the residents of Ottery who I was well acquainted to. It was a lovely morning, the sun bright and sharing it's delicious warmth. Mrs Weasley and I chatted idly about anything that came to mind, her humour refreshing and naivety on all things muggle amusing.

"It's Arthur who goes all gaga over muggle equipment and technology. You know, he's still trying to uncover the purpose of those yellow rubber duck things, has been doing so for years. Just out of curiosity, what _are_ they for?"

She was rightfully disappointed when I told her it was simply an object of entertainment whilst having a bath. She didn't understand it, and neither did I.

"Well, I'm sure Arthur will pick your brain for everything muggle, I hope you won't be too put off by his queries."

The image of Arthur Weasley I had constructed in my mind was all positive and cuddly, and I'm sure his curiosity would only add to that, not detract.

The bakery emitted its usual nostalgic smells of fresh bread and cakes, and just as it used to before my mouth salivated in spite of the hefty breakfast Mrs Weasley had ensured I ate.

There were a couple of customers in the shop, all who went ignored when Imogen saw me.

"Ella!" she squealed, running around the counter to engulf me in a hug. "Oh my gosh, it's so good to see you."

"Hi, Immy," I said. "How have you been?"

"It's always dead boring around here, as usual. Oh, come up to the counter, I need to finish serving. Here, I've got a new cake for you to try."

Mrs Weasley and I ate the slices of cake as Imogen finished serving her customers and then sat down with us. Mrs Weasley offered some suggestions which Imogen scribbled down in her notepad gratefully. The two women chatted on, and soon after Imogen's husband walked in with little Carley swinging in his arms.

"Oh, look at how big she's gotten!" I cooed, tickling her under the chin.

"We're throwing a birthday party for her in a couple of days. You should come – and you too, Molly. It's fancy dress," Imogen said, taking her daughter in her arms and bouncing her on her knee.

"I don't think I'll be able to attend," Mrs Weasley declined. "But I'm sure Ella and my sons, Fred and George, would love to go."

"George! That little rascal. He's your son?"

"Unfortunately," Mrs Weasley nodded, and the two women laughed, falling into tales of the young boy and his devious exploits. Imogen was surprised to hear of him having a twin.

We didn't linger for much longer, soon departing with a goody bag.

Life in Ottery was so simple. All the muggles with their ordinary, daily routines, their worries rarely falling into sinister territory, stress only for exams, bills and deadlines. They were utterly oblivious to an entire other world right beside theirs, a world bordering on the rise of…what? I didn't even know, but the return of Voldemort had my skin crawling and anticipating nothing good.

Instead of joining Mrs Weasley to the Burrow I decided to visit the Brimble's, and hopefully get to visit Nate and the shop.

* * *

Returning to work in the shop was as easy as riding a bike after years of desertion, not that I ever could ride a bike, something that always made me embarrassed to admit. Nate had a similar although somewhat diluted reaction to Zoe upon seeing me, and it was just like old times again.

It was the morning of Carley's fancy dress birthday party, and I had only just opened the shop. The streets were rather quiet, still in their opening stages of awakening, so I decided to use this time to clean up and restock.

There was a slight chill in the air that my thin jumper did nothing to protect me from. I shivered, lifting a box of biscuits from the backroom and organising them on the shelf. The bell signalling a customer tinkled, bringing with it an icy breeze.

"Good morning," I called, hurrying my stocking, my back to them. "Typical British weather, eh? Warm one day, cold the next."

"I'm more than happy to help you warm up," the customer said into my ear, so close his breath fanned over the side of my face.

The voice of Stephen Casey.

I turned around, his hands on either side of me, locking me between him and the shelves. His eyes were the same steel grey, hard and intimidating. I gulped, willing a retaliation, but the fear he instilled made my mind jumble and tongue dry.

A smirk played on his lips, and he lifted one hand, moving a strand of hair off my face and behind my ear, his fingers light and rough as it strayed unbearably slowly along my skin.

"Nice to see you again," he whispered, intensifying the surrounding silence. "Where have you been all this time?"

"Why do you care?" I demanded before I even realised my thoughts calming from their frenzy.

Stephen chuckled. "I missed you, my little spitfire."

"I'm not yours."

"Are you not?" he quirked an eyebrow and his hands squeezed my hips. "Whose are you then?"

The look in his eye, the swirling grey around the black pupil like a tornado, glinted knowingly, and I was stumped as to what he was insinuating. Had he seen me and Fred?

"You looked quite wonderful before Christmas, although I couldn't help but feel hurt that you didn't visit and wish me a Merry Christmas," he crooned. "Guess I was on Santa's naughty list seeing as I didn't get my present. Don't you want to know what I wanted?"

No, no I didn't. Whatever it was I knew it was not going to be appealing. My skin prickled at his close proximity and heart thumped harder. I hadn't seen him during my brief stay in the Christmas holidays, but he had obviously seen me. Had it been when I was alone, or when I was with Zoe or Nate?

He answered anyway, leaning in even closer until his lips grazed the skin of my ear. I shuddered. "You, on my kitchen table, wearing a shiny bow. Now _that_ I would have loved to unwrap."

He chuckled at himself and his clever perversion. Bile gurgled from my stomach and up my throat, burning my insides. I was beginning to sweat from fear, or perhaps nerves, maybe both. Stephen wasn't the boogeyman under children's beds, but the psychotic everyday man walking the streets with women. This only made him more dangerous.

"What do you think about my present then? Will I get it?"

"Not even in my worst nightmare," I spat, but my voice came out shaky.

He tilted his head and smiled. "Now, come on, sweetheart, that's not very nice."

I slapped his hand away as it touched my face. "Don't you dare. I'm not afraid of you, you pig."

I was afraid, very afraid, but I didn't want to let on to him just how afraid I was. My face was grabbed tightly in his hand as he brought his own down, so close our noses touched, and just as he had done on our previous encounter, he inhaled sharply.

"God I've missed that. How could you leave without even a goodbye, Ella?" he said, and then to my utter disgust his lips touched mine. "I'll see you around. We've got a lot of catching up to do."

Those steel grey eyes raked over my body as he took steps back, lingering longer on my breasts, he winked. And then he was gone, the tinkle of the bell singing its praises for his departure.


	32. The Calm Before the Storm

**This chapter just did not want to be written. As an apology for taking an obscene amount of time to update with no real excuse, I've made it a longer chapter.**

**Thank you so very, very much to all the follows/favourites and reviews. But come one guys, there are over one hundred of you following this (!) so surely a few more of you can spare a minute or two to just say 'Great' or something. Please?**

**An extra thank you to _chocolatecheesecakes _for her help with a certain aspect of this chapter. You know what it is. **

**Please enjoy and feel free to kick me up the arse if I take too long to update again.**

**Also, I'm on the lookout for a beta as I find hundreds of millions of mistakes when I read through my chapters and I would also greatly appreciate honest opinions on my ideas. Any volunteers? I'll pay you in secrets for the story!**

**It's 5.10am. I'm out.**

* * *

32\. The Calm Before the Storm

* * *

Being an adolescent female it is crucial to understand the recurrent ritual we undergo every month. Periods are unique to individuals following a general similitude in its effects on the body and hormones. Many girls undergoing the demonic event in which the soul feels as if it is being dripped out of the body through a single orifice after the initial whirlwind of clutching organs and muscles in the abdomen become accustomed to their specific routine. I find myself the anomaly of this and continue to undergo the horrific ordeal with a grimace as I lay on the sofa cuddled protectively with a hot water bottle as if it were my foetus.

My exclusive routine follows as such: before I even begin my body will tingle, sore to the touch, a premature warning. On the first day, alongside the demon pounding my uterus and bleeding me for all I'm worth, there is present a guttural pain in my bowels, back, breasts, everywhere. As such, I am utterly feeble and am rendered to spend the hours of gurgling organs motionless. From lessons in school this experience is not as rare as it sounds, however I have never met a person who hurts on the first day as much. Exercise is said to relieve some pain, but even the thought of walking from one end of the room to another has my stomach warbling. The second day would be much kinder physically, however my body would compensate by taking a toll on my hormones. The cutest child would have me in tears and the smallest insect would make my throat sore from screaming.

The rest of the tortuous days would be much calmer, having little to no effect on me, and my vagina was rested from being used as a punching bag.

Every month.

For this reason, the first two days I had avoided visiting Fred and his family in fear of acting like a complete nutter and embarrassing myself silly, and now, scrubbing the counters in my kitchen, I used it as an excuse as to my reluctance to think about my earlier encounter with Stephen. He unnerved me in ways I had never expected from a muggle, but my time away in Hogwarts had made me forget him and his reputation. Being wedged between him and the shelves of the shop, his muscles pushing through the fabric of his t-shirt reminding me of the power behind them and the countless victims they had fought with and incited blood and vomit. His eyes, hard and stormy showed only malicious intent. And for the hundredth time I still couldn't fathom why he insisted on bothering me.

The fancy dress party kept my mind occupied since arriving home from closing the shop early at noon. I had no idea what the twins were going to dress up as, and they had left no hints. I was sure to be in for a surprise.

A knock on the door made me jump.

"You guys know you don't have to knock," I yelled out, rolling my eyes at the ridiculously long knock the twins had formulated as a sort of code after Fred's stunt in front of Zoe as I made my way towards the door. "What the hell are you supposed to be?" I blurted out, laughter escaping my lips at seeing Fred and George dressed up for Carley's fancy dress party.

They weren't dressed in identical costumes as I had assumed. Fred was wearing a loose white blouse, the top few buttons left undone revealing a silver chain over tempting pale skin, the pendant hidden, full bishop sleeves billowing around his arms decorated in frilly cuffs tightened on his wrists. It was tucked into loose breeches, a red sash tightened around his waist. Dirty buckled boots adorned his feet, a fake parrot perched on his shoulder, but it was his face half covered in an eye patch and a fake bushy black beard that contrasted greatly with his shaggy red hair that amused me.

"Ahoy, me deary," Fred said, his voice coming out in a husky growl as he propped an arm up on the doorframe, the other on his hip as he looked down at me. "You's lookin' a mighty beauty. I'm here for the booty."

I stepped to the side, allowing enough room for the boys to come in, but before I could question Fred I was answered with a firm slap to my bum.

"Fred!" I shrieked, covering my stinging behind with my hands as I stared at the smirking boy.

"Aye, tis the finest pirate booty I've ever laid me eyes on. Georgie, I believe we've descended upon a mighty great trove," he nodded to his laughing twin, stroking his beard.

"Why are you talking like that?" I asked, making my way back to the kitchen. The boys were late; the party had started half an hour ago and I had left my hat in there somewhere but a brief glance over the room left me disappointed. It wasn't the first time something had seemingly disappeared in the days of my arrival, always trivial items that I assumed I mislaid. I bent over, looking under the table. "And what are you meant to be, George?"

"I thought it was rather obvious, there aren't many big grey things with a big tail and scary fin, are there?" Even without looking at him I could tell he'd rolled his eyes and shook his arse in an attempt to waggle the obnoxiously large fin. "You're not exactly dressed up, are you? Dungarees and a t-shirt. I don't think coming as yourself to a fancy dress party counts as dressing up."

"I'm a farmer girl, and I have a shirt in the other room," I answered, spinning on the spot and rubbing my head with one hand as if it would help me remember where I last left it, my other resting on my hip. I checked the hooks behind the door.

"What were you doing before we got here that's got you so jittery?" George asked, seating himself down as Fred helped himself to the contents of my cupboards and fridge.

"Cleaning," I said, making my way to the living room, checking under the cushions.

"How'd you like to scrape the barnacles of me rudder?" I heard Fred yell as I returned to the kitchen.

"Where the bloody hell did you learn all the pirate lingo?" I asked, my face fixed in a scowl as Fred grinned roguishly; it spoke of an interesting day ahead.

"He's been practising for ages," George leaned back on the chair, fidgeting at his large costume spilling over the seat, and crossed his arms behind the shark head covering his own. "When we leaving?"

"As soon as I find my hat."

"What – this crappy thing?" Fred said, holding up a straw hat and twirling it around his hand.

"What is it with you and taking random things you find?" I huffed, snatching my hat out of his hand and putting it over my braided hair. He simply grinned in return, recalling his first morning in my house when Mrs Weasley and George showed up and he had taken a jar of Nutella home. I still hadn't forgiven him for that.

"I thought I'd use it. My hair's not cooperating with me today."

"Dirty, smelly and messy, what's wrong with that? It's perfect for an addled pirate," I retorted with an upturned nose, stretching on my toes to muss his hair as he leaned back away from my hand.

"Piss off, ye blowfish!" he exclaimed, managing to grab hold of my hands against his chest. I froze impulsively and sucked in a breath, standing taller and holding my belly in; did he reference a blowfish purposefully? "Just do your magic and fix my hair. Please."

"You're the wizard," I huffed, pushing him to sit down opposite George, nevertheless combing out the knots in his hair with my fingers, tugging hard.

"Ouch! You did that on purpose."

"Maybe wash next time," I whispered loudly. I deemed his hair relatively knot free and sectioned it in three, beginning to plait it. His hair had grown even longer since Hogwarts by an inch or two, making it easier to tie up.

"Won't be a next time," George called. "Mum's threatening to chop it off, thinks Bill's style rubbing off on us too much."

I gasped before I could stop myself, and the twins chuckled. The last time I had seen George with short hair was before we were teenagers, and it had looked decent on him, but I much preferred playing with Fred's long locks when it was clean and soft, losing my hand in the red velvet. I couldn't imagine having to run my fingers through tiny spikes of hair.

I had to admit, Bill was very attractive with his long hair, but Fred pulled it off better. Bill was the more obvious type of handsome, very tall with an angular face, sharp cheekbones, small eyes under neat brows, and add to that his relative punk fashion of long smooth hair, a fang earring and a leather jacket he was a walking dream.

The twins, although far more akin to their second eldest brother Charlie in their physique, were more goofily handsome. Much of it derived from their carefree and teasing personality, visible in their long messy hair and glinting blue eyes. They were slightly shorter than Bill, but their muscles compensated for the few inches difference. Their positions as Beaters in Quidditch had greatly matured their bodies and was continuing to do so, I noticed, eyes glued to the strong neck and shoulders of Fred. My mind wandered in those few seconds over what could possibly be hidden under the loose white cotton covering his torso.

As soon as his hair was neat and tied back, a feat extended due to my reluctance to stop – who knew when I would be able to do it again? – we left for Carley's party. We received some odd looks on our walk to Imogen's house, but the twins grinned and waved without a care in the world, yelling out ridiculous greetings. It was infectious, and my paranoia of feeling eyes on me was soon forgotten. I could forget about Stephen, there was no reason to have Fred worry. It was nothing anyway, and Fred lived not too far away. We'd be back at Hogwarts in no time as well. He'd forget about me, lose interest due to my long absences from Ottery, perhaps even go to a university far away. I could only hope.

They walked ahead of me, shoving each other and laughing. I couldn't help but smile at their raw joy, especially not after all they had been through.

"Hey," I called out to them, waiting for them to turn around. They both proceeded to walk backwards facing me. "What's got you two so jolly when the last time I saw you were ready to burn Bagman alive."

Instead of the scowl that once graced their faces at the mention of Ludo Bagman they grinned.

"Freddie didn't tell you?" George asked.

"Bugger him, is all I have to say," Fred said.

"What happened?"

"Harry Potter is what happened," George said, wincing as he bumped into a lamppost.

"Care to elaborate before I'm old and grey?"

"Been there, done that, wasn't too bad. Handsome old geezers, weren't we, Gred?"

"Indeed, Forge. But I must say when you do get that old please trim your nose hairs."

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I'd have to ask them about that at one point."Guys!"

They tilted their heads with cute grins on their faces. I apologised to an old lady they almost knocked over.

"You know the winnings from the Triwizard tournament?"

"Harry didn't want it, thought it was tainted with the memory of what happened."

"And the Diggory's refused it –"

"So we are now the blessed owners of one thousand galleons!" they chorused, holding their arms out. Under any other circumstance I would have forced them around to avoid smacking someone else in the face, but my mouth fell open and my feet stopped in utter shock. Even I knew one thousand galleons to be a hell of a lot of gold.

"Come again?"

"He gave us the money," Fred said. "All of it. It was way more than what we had before the Bagman shit."

"You know what that means?" George wiggled his eyebrows. I couldn't respond.

"We're set to start progressing on the shop," Fred finished.

"That's fantastic!" I yelled, laughter full of surprise. Fred stumbled as he caught me in his arms and swung me from side to side. My legs wrapped around him and my hands supporting me on his shoulders, I leaned down and caught his lips with mine, our laughter mingling. All of his sorrow and pain from the thought of not being able to achieve his dream washed away like dead leaves in the harsh winds of autumn. In his arms I could almost feel his happiness and excitement pouring out of him. They still had a long way to go, but this was a pretty good step, all thanks to Harry Potter.

The pride engulfed me, smothering me in limitless bliss at the possibility of their dream, their wondrous shop blossoming soon. It was enchanting, the awareness of their future, seeing it bloom behind my eyelids. They deserved it.

"Oi, where's my congrats? It'll be my shop too, you know."

We separated and turned to George, arms crossed and pouting.

"Not from my girl you ain't," Fred said, kissing me on the cheek. "Not one like this at least."

I shimmied down and hugged George tightly, ignoring Fred's playful warnings about hands in decent places.

"I'm so happy for you," I whispered into George's ear. "You guy's'll be wonderful."

"We know." The smirk was evident in George's voice, followed by his hand squeezing my arse.

"George!"

"Couldn't help myself!" he shrugged, holding his hands up in defence although his grin spoke of anything but regret. And then, to my surprise, he and Fred high fived.

"Ay, no worries, lass, ye can thank me properly later in Davy Jones' Locker, I'll even show ye me urchins," Fred whispered with a wink.

The party was in full swing by the time we arrived. Kids were running wild all over the generous garden, tables under the small marquee littered with bits of food, a bouncy castle full of both children and adults and a paddling pool. The entire set up screamed temptation to the twins, a playground of mischief they could easily blame on hyped up children. Almost immediately Fred and George ran off somewhere, leaving me alone until I saw Zoe across the garden with Nate.

"I see you finally made it," Zoe said, crossing her arms as I approached them. "What delayed you, snogging your boyfriend? Do you know how many kids I've had to escort to the bathroom? God, you'd think Immy invited us to be babysitters."

"You know that's exactly why we were invited, Zo," Nate said, rolling his eyes. "Your boyfriend just shoved cake into his brother's face."

I groaned. "I've got my hands full babysitting them let alone the actual toddlers."

"Oh my God, they really are identical," Zoe gasped. Neither Nate or Zoe had seen the twins together.

"What's the grey one meant to be dressed as?"

"A shark," I answered. Zoe giggled into her glass of a no doubt spiked drink. "And you guys?"

"Peter Pan," Nate huffed, adjusting the green tights as if to emphasise his discomfort.

"Didn't you wear that to the school production of Peter Pan like, four years ago?" I asked, biting my lip to hold in my laughter as he flushed an admirable shade of red.

"How 'bout you shut it, Pippi Longstocking."

"Don't be an arse, Nate, those'll be hers and Freddie's kiddies."

I swatted them both on the arms having no verbal rebuttal.

"I was going to be Tinkerbell – remember my Halloween costume from last year? – but then I thought that would have been a tad indecent for a children's party so I opted for a butterfly."

I did remember her Tinkerbell costume and thought it a bit more than a 'tad indecent'. It had been downright tarty.

"I was wondering what the face paint was for, I thought you had a fight with you make up brushes," I said, then surveyed the garden. "Where's the birthday girl?"

"Bouncy castle," Nate answered, pointing to the inflated castle that looked on the verge of collapsing. "And I think I see mum eyeing up that bloke that's keeping it up, meaning I need another drink. See yous."

We offered half-hearted goodbyes. Zoe turned to me instantly.

"So what's the deal with Fred's costume?" she whispered.

"What d'you mean?"

"You know! He's a _wizard –_" she mouthed the word as if the flowers behind us would hear and inform the town of the latest gossip "– did he have to buy them or did he just _magic_ them out of thin air? And George too? Do they use our money?"

"Zoe," I sighed. "He went with his dad to buy his costume, but yes he did change a lot of them. Remember I told you they can transfigure stuff? He did it with some of his ordinary clothes, I told you his family isn't that well off. Except the parrot. His mum knitted that."

I had yet to still meet Arthur Weasley, the muggle loving head of the Weasley's. The twins overwhelmed me at most times, their excitement prodigious, and their father seemed even more enthusiastic, impulsive even. How their mother did it, I had not a clue. The combination of Arthur Weasley, the twins and five other children made me dizzy simply from the thought of having to manage them. A new praise of respect for Molly burgeoned. It was a wonder she hadn't killed one of them already.

"Now that's adorable. How did she manage that? Oh, wait, magic. Got it. So this transfigurisationing, does it have a time limit or are his clothes going to stay like that forever?"

I laughed at her obvious entry to drunkenness. Slowly, I took the plastic up out of her hand and placed it on the adjacent table. Looking up I met someone's gaze and froze.

"Zoe," I said, hoping she wasn't too drunk to fall over and giggle madly. Thankfully, she wasn't as she caught on to my expression.

"Ella?"

"What is Stephen Casey doing here?"

"I – I don't know. I didn't think he was invited," she murmured, obviously just as shocked. He wasn't known to be friendly, not even to children.

"I doubt he is," I noted his appearance of casual jeans and a t-shirt, the same he had worn this morning. Oh, how unfortunate for me to see him again just as I was forgetting the morning's altercation. His body, so hard and hot and forceful. His breath, metallic eyes, bitter lips. A shudder ran up my spine. "Reckon I should get someone to get him away?"

Her hand gripped my arm tightly. "No. He'll go himself, it'll be worse if you get someone to go to him. Come on, let's go find your boys."

My feet followed Zoe even though my eyes didn't. He was smirking, leaning up against the side of the house. Stephen lifted his hand for a small wave, only raising a few fingers as his others clasped something before he was blocked from my vision.

"I didn't know you were familiar with Stephen," Zoe commented, eyeing me suspiciously.

"I'm not, he's just…odd."

"He's bad news, Ella, it'll do you good to stay away."

"I know that, Zo, I'm not an idiot." I wrenched my arm out of her hand. "Everyone in this town knows. So, tell me, what's your experience with him?"

"What are you on about? I have no experience with him, I just hear things from people," she said, her voice level, but she didn't meet my eyes, they were looking at everything but me.

"That's bullshit. He came up to me and Nate in the shop last year and said some things about you, none of them very nice, as you are well aware. Now, care to share?"

Looking at her frightful expression I didn't think I wanted to know, I certainly hadn't at the time he had mentioned it. It was easier to forget and live in ignorance, seeing people how you expected them to be in as much light as possible. Zoe was my best friend, the first person to reach out a hand to me in spite of rumours and bullying. She'd always held tight, never faltering in her hold or doubting. I didn't want anything ruining that, the image I had constructed of her being some sort of protector or support, like reading a beautiful poem, becoming enraptured by the imagery and metaphors and missing the dark subtext hinting at all the world's horrors.

"It's nothing, Ella, don't worry," she put on a smile. "It was stupid Stephen trying to get under Nate's skin. He hasn't bothered me for a while."

"You're lying."

Zoe nodded. She didn't even bother to cover her lie.

There was nothing to be said after that. The twins popped up behind us, refusing to reveal where they were or what they were doing, and the mood was lifted. I was left in the ignorance I so cherished. And yet, not knowing would have a consequence on me, I was just unaware as to what.

"You know, I heard so much about you when we were younger and I must say I'm so glad to see you're not the imaginary space of air I always thought you were," Zoe said once she was formally introduced to George who looked far too eager for my liking. Their attraction was thick in the air and both were flirting insanely. It was expected of them, they both had a flirtatious personality. It was just weird that it was _George _and _Zoe._

"I'm more than happy to show you just how real I am," George winked, moving in closer to Zoe until they was hardly any space between them. She giggled.

"It was perfectly plausible, you know how our Ella is."

"Oh indeed I do, I'm just upset that she didn't let on just as to how gorgeous you are," George drawled. I gagged behind Fred's back.

"You two are just as nauseating," Zoe said.

"I beg to differ," I scoffed. Fred's arm wound around my shoulders. My eyes flew to the side of the house, only to see the bare brick wall. Looking around the garden there was no sign of Stephen. I couldn't decide whether it was a good or bad thing.

"Oh! I've got a good one, hear this," Zoe called. "What do you call a shark that can't stop singing 'U Can't Touch This'?"

The twins quirked their eyebrows but remained silent.

"An M.C Hammerhead!"

Politely, I laughed with Zoe and nudged Fred in the ribs for him to go along. The confused look shared between the twins showed their bafflement over the joke. Wizards were not well acquainted to muggle pop music.

"You get it? Hammerhead? A type of shark?"

"Yeah, yeah, 'course," George smiled along, nodding ridiculously.

"Batty landlubber," Fred mumbled into my hair. He coughed. "Me bucko, care to point me to the poop deck?"

"Do wizards have pirates?" Zoe asked quietly once Fred had run off to the bathroom.

"Not that I know of," George said. "There should be a good market for that, in fact. Think of any good pirate pranks we could work on?"

I shrugged and once again found my eyes roaming, ignoring the onslaught of magical parrot and eye patch pranks that zoomed into mind. This time George caught on as well as Zoe.

"Missing Fred already?" he teased.

I picked up a cup of juice from the table and took a sip which I almost spat out when Zoe opened her mouth.

"Still looking for Steph-"

"YEP! Missing Fred loads. George, you seen Nate? How about you go and find him? I need to discuss the timetable for work for the next week with him."

He didn't look the least bit convinced at my lame excuse, not that I could blame him, and I groaned internally, knowing that in order for him to leave I'd have to embarrass him (and myself) in the only infallible way a girl could scare off a guy without him questioning anything.

"I need to ask Zoe something about periods."

As soon as the words had left me George was off running to the farthest side of the garden well out of ear shot.

"What the hell was that?"

"I don't want them to know, not just yet," I admitted, tugging on a plait. "I will eventually, they just have a lot on their minds right now. I don't want to bother them," I added on hastily as she focused a glare on me.

"Ella, if Stephen Casey is involved they have a right to know."

"Can we not talk about him? Please. Oh, it looks like Immy's getting the birthday cake ready, let's go."

Zoe's tendency to badger people for information laid dormant as she silently nodded, rolling her eyes when I paused her again.

"Wait, I have something I need to ask." I bit my lip and lowered my eyes, feeling foolish for even thinking about it.

"What's wrong?"

"Am I…do I look…have I gotten fatter?"

Her concern vanished and she grinned, noticeably trying not to laugh in my face.

"What makes you assume that?"

"I know I've been pigging out recently and it's so stupid, I know, I'm never like this but Fred made a comment earlier and –"

"Fred? What did he say?"

I would have found her murderous gaze amusing were it not for my need to hear a response.

"Nothing important, it was a joke. But really, have I gained weight?"

She rested her hands on my shoulders and kissed my cheek before bringing me into her arms for a painful hug, her wing batting me in the face.

"Definitely not fat. You're perfect. Honestly, what _have_ you been eating? I'd die for hips like these?" Exaggerating her adoration of my body she squeezed my hips and I laughed, glad to finally have my fear alleviated even if it was a biased answer and not at all true.

"Honest?"

Zoe took my free hand and swung it. "Honest. You idiot. Now come on, I'm going to need a lot of cake."

Before I took even three steps hot air blew over my face alongside whispered words that made me jump.

"You're drinking a Salty Dog? How'd you like to try the real thing?"

"Fred!"

He chuckled and followed me to the guests surrounding the yellow cake where Immy was lighting up candles. It was shaped as a giant flower, a fondant bee sitting on one petal and surrounded by tiny fairy cakes.

"You're jumpy," he noted.

"And you're crude."

"It's part of the charm."

I snorted. "What charm?"

He pinched my waist. "Cheeky."

A whistle rang through the air, calling the attention of all the children. Only a few jumped out of the bouncy castle and paddling pool. Shrieks poured out from the remaining children in the paddling pool as they shoved each other to run out, their expressions full of fear instead of excitement over cake. Peering over the heads before me, I saw something poking out of the water.

"Is that…?" I trailed off, squinting through the sun that had emerged after the morning's chill.

Fred's chuckles vibrated against my back. "Aye."

"Oh, crap."

A child no older than four stumbled against the side of the paddling pool and toppled over, landing face first into the grass. He began wailing, and a sheepish looking George emerged from the shallow water, offering a small smile in the face of many angry parents.

* * *

"I left it at the bottom of my bed, I always leave it there," I huffed, pulling out my drawers and rifling through my articles of clothing.

"Maybe you put it in the wash?" Fred suggested, throwing his knitted parrot in the air and flicking his wand at it, making it fly in loops.

"It was clean, I'd only just taken it out."

For the past twenty minutes I had been searching for my pyjama bottoms. It was routine for me to put out my pyjamas on my bed hours beforehand, just in case I was too tired to pull something out of my wardrobe at night. Fred had apparated into my room not long ago already dressed in his, making his intentions to stay the night clear. Apprehension slithered through me at sleeping in the same bed with him in my condition, so I used my lack of pyjamas as something of an excuse to delay following him into my bed. I wasn't about to mention the disappearance of my knickers alongside my pyjama pants any time soon.

"Maybe you didn't get it out. Your top was there, after all," he said, flying his parrot around my head.

"Maybe," I sighed. A crack of thunder sounded, followed by a flash of lightening that lit up the dim bedroom. Bloody British weather.

Fred sat up, the parrot falling to the ground with a squeak. "I'm bored."

"So?"

"How about we have a fight?" he suggested with a smirk.

"What? Why would we do that?" I frowned.

"Because they're fun. Here. I'll start. You look like you just got drowned in a pond."

"Is this how you keep yourself amused? I'm not in the mood."

"Rat."

My teeth dug into my bottom lip, refusing to admonish him again. If he was going to be childish, then so be it.

"Aw, come on, it's not fun when you don't retaliate," he whined, pouting. It was gone in a flash, and he smirked. "How's about a quick shag? Or are you too ashamed to be with me? What is it, I'm the one on the side and you're secretly banging some other guy? Who is it - Nate?"

I pursed my lips to stop the grin from taking over. He wasn't very good at instigating a fight, not when it was in jest.

"Your food made me shit a bucket. Honestly, it was the foulest thing ever. It looked worse than your face, and that's saying something. But it wasn't as big as you, not at all."

"Fred, stop it," I ground out, knowing not to take his comments to heart but being unable to resist. He knew just what would make me burst without going over the top. It was the second time he had mentioned my weight in one day. I could almost feel my stomach bulging out from his words.

"What? Talking about how cuddly you are?" he grinned. "It's like sleeping with a bear, only without all the fur. Your hair more than makes up for it though."

I inhaled deeply. No way was he going to get the better of me. "You're rubbish at starting fights."

"Well I don't want you mad enough to murder me, now, do I?" he rolled his eyes melodramatically.

"Does your mum know you're staying the night?" I questioned, feeling a small spark of triumph at his sudden nervousness.

"Kind of?"

"I'm going to go and wash up and then get some new pants."

"Okay," he yelled as I left the room. "Don't be too long, darling!"

The floor was cold under my feet, the air hot and sticky. It was terribly humid but I had made sure to close and lock all the windows except the one in my room, knowing I wouldn't get any sleep without it open. Why had he suddenly declared his want for a fight? Perhaps I was looking too much into it, but he had said he was bored, so it must have been some sort of indicator of what's to come. We'd have quiet, boring moments, of course we would, everyone did. Would he want a fight during all those times? And how far would he go to get a reaction?

Stupid Squib. Would he go so far as to insult my blood?

No, I couldn't even think that. He was Fred. Beautiful, wonderful, funny Fred. During the months we had been dating he hadn't uttered a single negative thing about me or my blood. He'd approached the opposite side of the spectrum from our first few interactions in Hogwarts, he defended me and didn't judge, never afraid to face others if they so much as muttered a profanity.

After quickly brushing my teeth, I stalled for some more time and decided to get a glass of water.

The house was rather scary at night in the dark, and the rain and lightning only added to the suspenseful atmosphere. I flicked on the kitchen light and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. Fred's voice could be heard singing an odd song, something about hippogriffs, loud and out of tune. I gulped down a glass and refilled it quickly. Already my neck became slick with sweat from the heat in the kitchen.

"You having grub?" Fred yelled.

"No, water. Want some?"

"Sure."

Filling up another glass, I relished in the cool condensation it brought to my hands. A loud bang made me jump and water jostle out of the glasses. It was lucky I hadn't dropped them altogether, seeing the window in the kitchen swing in and then back out, slamming into the wall. I heaved a sigh, noting to myself to make sure to check all the windows properly next time. I must have been seriously tired when I got home.

Once shut, I went to get the glasses again, but this time the door swung out from the force of the wind, allowing it to blow in with the harsh rain. Fighting against the gale I pulled the door back in.

Something ran over my foot. I screamed, letting go of door. Scrambling backwards, my back came into contact with the counter, and I felt the change in the air before hearing the smashing of several glasses around me. The roaring storm cheered loudly and danced faster.

"Ella?" I heard Fred rushing down the stairs. His hands found my arms and he assessed me from head to toe. "What's wrong? What happened?" He easily cleared the glass and checked my exposed skin for any nicks.

"Something came in, it hit my foot, it's inside."

"What? What was it?" he asked, looking around the kitchen. I was too busy trying to control my breathing to respond my uncertainty. He looked up at me from his crouched position by the dining table. "It wouldn't have happened to feel like a cat, would it?"

I frowned, and looking under the table, saw the annoying green eyes of Zoe's cat. Upon seeing me the damn thing hissed and backed further away from me.

"It's just a cat. Poor thing must be terrified of the storm." He reached a hand out and whistled to Kiwi, cooing as it stroked its head against his head.

The silhouette of a tree shadowed over us as more lightning flashed.

"It felt as if…"

"What?" Fred asked, eyes fixed on Kiwi.

"I could have sworn I locked that door. And the window."

"You probably thought you did, it happens all the time," Fred reasoned, then stood to his full height. "I say let it kip here for the night."

"She's been here before," I said, more to myself than Fred as Zoe's words came to mind of her finding Kiwi inside. She had said 'again'. How many times had her cat somehow found a way into my house? And how?

"Elle, you're tired. Bed. Now." Fred locked the garden door and held my hand, pulling me back up the stairs.

"I could have sworn there was someone out there," I said, once nestled in Fred's arms in bed.

"It's the storm, it's messing with you," he murmured, pressing his lips to my ear. "You have a lot to be worried about, I know, but Dumbledore protected this house. You're safe here. It's just the storm."

That was it. It was just the storm.


	33. The Order of Rampage

**I am so excited about this chapter! It's quite a pivotal point (so sorry for the lack of Fred! I'll make up for it in the next one, promise) so rather important. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I loved writing it. This hasn't undergone much editing, I was too excited about finishing it to bother. But I most definitely will soon.**

**Thank you once again for all the fabulous reviews (I love all my reviewers. Hugs and Kisses to you!) and for the follows and favourites. Reviews the most though. Please do leave feedback, I would really like to know how to improve and what you like most.**

**Do enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Dialogue at the end from Order of the Phoenix, slightly edited, most of JK Rowling's words.**

* * *

33\. The Order of Rampage

* * *

The timer pinged and I had just opened the oven door when the whishing of the Floo sounded. I pulled the brownies out and set them on a wire rack before turning to see Dumbledore enter.

"Sir! Hello. I wasn't expecting you," I said, taking off my oven mitts and smiling at the Hogwarts headmaster. He smiled back, but it was a tired tilt of the lips not quite reaching his soft blue eyes that looked uncharacteristically old.

"Ella," he said in greeting, dropping his head in a small bow. "I've been rather busy and wasn't able to inform you beforehand. Is this a good time?"

"Yes, of course, it's fine. You want some tea?"

Dumbledore nodded and pulled out a chair, humming in surprise.

"Your pet?" he asked, and I looked over the table to see Kiwi sat on the chair, small green eyes staring up.

"Not mine," I glowered at it, "Sorry about her."

He left the chair pulled put and sat himself down adjacent to her as I prepared two cups of tea. Slicing the brownies into squares, I plated them and set everything on the table.

"Are you aware of the Order of the Phoenix?" he asked as he picked up his mug.

"Um…" I wracked my brain, eyes pinched in concentration. "A…an organisation for the welfare of phoenixes?"

"Not quite," he said, his smile less forced this time, "It's a society of witches and wizards that all work for one aim, and unfortunately it does not, as you suggested, have to do with caring for phoenixes. It's been dissolved for quite some time now – since 1981, in fact. I've been busy this summer due to its reformation."

"Are you the head of it?" I asked, thinking perhaps he was offering me a career proposition to work with phoenixes only to remember it did not actually involve phoenixes. The significance of 1981 fell short on me.

"Indeed I am. And after the events of the final school term I thought it best to reinstate the Order to fight back against Voldemort."

Harry had told everyone on the night of Cedric Diggory's death that Voldemort had returned. I had believed him, but to hear it confirmed by Dumbledore made it real, solidified the knowledge that I had already accepted yet shoved to the back of my mind. Facing the ordinary occurrences of the muggle world that seemed so significant had made my other life irrelevant. A shiver ran through my body and I returned the brownie square to the plate.

"I see."

"The Order of the Phoenix is a secret organisation which works to defeat Voldemort and all his followers. It emerged during the seventies, when he first rose to power with dark intentions towards muggleborns. Now that he is back I am afraid I will be of little assistance to you with your studies, however I am sure many of your other professors will be more than capable in ensuring your studies are going soundly," he said.

"I understand," I said, nodding slowly. My gaze flew to the window quickly, hoping to see the familiar form of Pigwidgeon. The owl was nowhere in sight, had not been for days, and I wondered just what Fred could be so busy with that he couldn't send a letter. "What are you doing right now? Fred and George haven't mentioned anything from the Daily Prophet about it, surely the news about Voldemort would be everywhere?"

He sighed. "I am afraid due to personal reasons the Weasleys no longer care much for the Daily Prophet. I am sure you will be notified about that in due time. Lately I've been recruiting some new members as well as getting some old members back. It's not easy, what with the Ministry completely rejecting Voldemort's return and labelling us – Harry and myself – as wizards who have lost their wand. Can you imagine – me being condemned as crazy? Preposterous."

"The kind of rumour a bumbling Billywig would make?" I smirked.

"Precisely," he winked.

"I don't understand why they're ignoring this. Don't they remember the first wizarding war? How disastrous it was – they could put a stop to it now!"

"My dear, the Minister is scared," Dumbledore said calmly. "He is frightened to see reason, would much rather believe that I am attempting to overthrow him and replace him."

"Why would he think that?" I frowned.

"Before he was Minister there were many people supporting me to take on the role and leave Hogwarts, and although I never even considered the idea, it would seem that the Minister still holds some resentment. And ignoring the issue of Voldemort rising means less problems for them to worry about. Yes, the first war caused many problems, problems that Fudge does not want to deal with and is therefore brushing it away."

"That's stupid, Voldemort isn't going to just disappear until it's convenient for Fudge."

"Which is why the Order is of the utmost importance."

"What's Harry saying about all this? He must be fuming," I said, sipping on my tea.

"That is another reason for my visit," Dumbledore said, holding up his own cup to his lips. "How would you like to do a little job for the Order?"

"Me?" my eyes widened. "What could I do?"

"It wouldn't take long, just a few hours of guard duty. Harry won't know you're there, you'll be with his neighbour, a Mrs Arabella Figg. She, like you, is a squib, and a member of the Order."

"Really?" I asked. I had only met one squib before at Hogwarts, Argus Filch, and he was a horrible creep even though I continuously gave him the benefit of the doubt, knowing the cruelty he received openly from students. To hear that a squib was fighting for a good cause, one which I had momentarily believed was out of my reach, gave me hope. "Wait – I'll be guarding Harry?"

"She lives in Little Whinging, near Harry and the Dursleys, his muggle family. I have already informed her of a possible visit and she is more than happy to have you with her for the evening."

"Why is Harry with muggles? Wouldn't he be better off and more protected with wizards, the Weasleys? He wouldn't have to be guarded then."

"He is not yet of age and must stay with his family," Dumbledore said, and I had no doubt it was a phrase he had repeated several times over the years. "And while you are away, I have someone to help me go over the protective spells on your house here."

Before I could question further the Floo rushed again, and the thudding through the house had me thinking that it was Bill who would walk through the archway any second, only for me to skid back on my chair.

The man limping through the doorway was familiar, but his presence did not bring the pleasantness I had been expecting. He was a very tall man, adding to the intimidating features of his scarred face. His nose looked as if there was a large chunk missing from it and I noticed it was his wooden leg that had been the source of the thumping. However, it was his eyes that were the most shocking – his one electrical blue eye, rather, that rolled around while the other grey eye narrowed on me.

"Professor Moody," I said, acknowledging the man who had been impersonated throughout the entire school year by the Death Eater Barty Crouch. I was not taught by him, but he had been a very conspicuous staff member, and incredibly shifty.

"Never got round to much teaching, did I?" he growled, sitting himself down. No flask was pulled out from his pocket. I breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"Alastor," Dumbledore said, taking a sip of his tea, "I'd like to introduce you to Ella Wood. Ella, Alastor Moody."

"Wood, 'eh?" Moody said, his eye flying everywhere before settling on me for just a second. "Bill's girl?"

"You knew Bill?" I asked.

"Course, stuck by each other when we were Aurors and in that first war. Both lost our legs together."

I noticed the Scottish twang to his voice, just as thick and strong as Bill's. "Were you related?"

He shifted in his seat, threw his hand under himself and pulled out a little sweet, one I observed was a prototype of the twins'. He tossed it onto the table.

"Yeah, second cousins or something."

"The two were like brothers," Dumbledore added. The two men averted their eyes, and I was struck with a sense of suspicion.

"It's nice to properly meet you, sir," I said to Moody, offering him a brownie to which he declined with a rough shake of his head.

"Now, Ella," said Dumbledore, clearing his throat. "I will Floo you to Mrs Figg's house and she will explain to you what you will be doing. I will come and get you once Alastor and I are done with the charms here."

Moody stood and made his way over to the window, looking out into the garden.

"Under no circumstances are you to make yourself visible to Harry, is that understood?"

"Why not?" I asked.

"It is very dangerous, Ella, and the less Harry knows right now, the better."

"For who? Surely not for him. Doesn't he deserve to know? He saw Voldemort. He saw Cedric die."

"Be quiet, girl," Moody snarled without removing his eyes from the garden. "Either you listen and obey or don't bother joining, we have no problem going about our business with you here."

"Join?" I whirled back to Dumbledore. "You want me to _join_ the Order?"

"If you would like," he said, locking his fingers together and resting them on the table.

"Seriously?" I let out a hollow laugh. My heart beat accelerated and my hands clammed with sweat. I couldn't believe it. "You mean it? I can join the Order of the Phoenix?"

"Would we joke about this?" Moody said.

I bit my lip. This all seemed so impossible.

"Under extreme circumstances I am allowing this, Ella," said Dumbledore seriously. Kiwi hopped onto the table and purred as Dumbledore's fingers scratched her through her wild fur. "Even witches and wizards of age who are still in school are not able to join. We usually take into consideration the thoughts of parents or carers, however, there is special predicament in your case. Nevertheless, you have permission. You must promise that you will not tell anyone of your involvement or any missions you go on. This is a very serious matter. Only a select few Order members will know. Me, Alastor, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Professor Snape."

My eyes bulged out of their sockets. "Snape? He's in the Order?"

"Professor Snape has his own intentions and orders," he continued, "Trust him. There will be times you will be dubious over his commitment but I assure you that Snape is with us." He smiled crookedly, and then added, "I trust him with my life."

I nodded. Trusting Snape with anything left me feeling uneasy, but I would just have to grin and bear it.

There was a sudden bang on the window and I jumped out of my seat, my mug soaring to the ground and shattering. With my heart beating furiously I looked to where it had come from. A stain painted the window, a light pink mixed with a translucent liquid. Moody stared unflinching as I ran over; leaning over the sink, I saw a mangled heap of feathers in the long grass, and my initial thought that it was Pigwidgeon, dead, until I saw that it had no letter attached to it and was simply a pigeon. Circling above in the sky, squawking, was a flock of birds.

"Albus," said Moody.

I felt my stomach gurgle at the dead bird, twitching sporadically, and backed away.

"Ella?" Dumbledore said, ignoring Moody as he stared at the shattered shards of porcelain decorating the ground. It was then I noticed that I was trembling. "Ella, has anything odd been happening?"

"Like pigeons committing suicide on my window, no I can't say anything of the sort has happened before," I said in a rush, feeling panic begin to choke me.

"Not the bird," Dumbledore shook his head and gazed at me thoughtfully, the look that made me feel as if he was trying to read my mind, "Anything else? Strange happenings when you've been in a state of shock? Any other emotion that has taken complete hold of you?"

I was shaking my head, unable to think of anything even though I was sure he knew something, suspected something that was very wrong.

Old withered hands rested on my shoulders until I met his soothing light-blue eyes.

"Ella, with your permission, may I use Legilimency?"

"Albus, there's not much time," Moody snapped, "Take her to Little Whinging."

Once again Dumbledore ignored Moody. I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. Whatever had possibly worried Dumbledore was beginning to frighten me; I had always assumed very few things could get Dumbledore so anxious. Maybe I was just imagining things, seeing a bird crash into a window and die could do that to you.

As his eyes bore into mine I felt a calmness sweep through me, washing away my unease from the bad omen. I couldn't take my eyes off of him if I tried. The awareness of him rifling through every thought and memory should have made me awkward, but all I could think of was him having done this before, only not as intensely.

"Albus."

I was no longer looking at his face. The kitchen had been swallowed in shades of black and Moody's voice was silenced. I was all alone.

A hiss, loud and clear from all around, and then as if looking through the eyes of another, the doors of darkness opened to a grim scene. Pacing on marble floor was a man, his back to me, clad in dark robes. His blond hair was neatly combed back. The room was dark, blocking out the sun streaming in from the window as if by an invisible barrier. A large bookshelf dominated much of a wall, dark, leathery spines with gold symbols. A glass cabinet sat in a corner filled with potions of an assortment of deep colours. There was a large desk, neat and bare, and the chair behind it was facing away from me. The only thing visible was skinny fingers drumming together.

From the corner of my eye I saw the figure of a woman leaving the door, spirals of wild hair hiding her face. Feet dragged behind her on the ground, leaving remains of a trail of crimson.

The blond man stopped as a garbled voice spoke. I could not understand the cold whispers, but the feel of something sliding on my skin was so real and fowl that I made to jump back, only I couldn't. A voice moaned out, small and fearful. A child.

With rings of black smoke the scene fizzled out, replaced by another. The bed in the dark room embellished in green held the blonde man, shirtless, a blanket draped sloppily over his lower half. His pale face was clear in the moonlight cascading in from the wide windows. He chuckled, sitting up abruptly, and to my absolute horror looked right at me with a baleful grin.

"Hello, princess," he crooned, voice low and hoarse. From the bedside table he grabbed his wand, twirling it between his long fingers before pointing it directly at me. He opened his mouth, and the air buzzed with momentary deafness as he spat out his curse, a jet of red coursing through the air.

Before the scene gave way once again I felt the distinct warmth of stickiness below.

More ripples of black. I was under a table, for that I was sure, hugging my knees to my chest. Ribbons of tears streaked down my face as the screaming escalated followed by smashing glass. A dark liquid dripped from the edge of the table, the feet storming away.

All was silent but my muffled cries.

"Ella," a voice drawled. I whimpered, biting my lip so hard that blood puddled into my mouth like the amber drink on the floor.

Feet, bare and grey swanned into my sight, scarcely touching the ground. They began slow, then increased in speed, skipping and skidding backwards and forwards, and I knew that they were taunting me, relishing in my mounting fear. A sob escaped me, and the feet stopped.

"Ella," it hissed again, and then his face was in front of mine, and a scream tore through my lips at the serpent like face before I was dropped back into the safety of my kitchen. Other than the sweat drenching me I was otherwise completely dry.

"Albus!" Moody yelled, who I was relieved to see in his same position by the window.

"I believe we should be going now, Ella," Dumbledore said as calm as ever.

"Sir?"

"Are you ready now, Ella?" Dumbledore said, standing as I looked between the two men, catching my breath.

"What was that?" I asked, eyes flying everywhere, making certain that I was not still in my nightmares.

"I'm afraid it will have to wait, we must be on our way."

"Is there someone out there?" I said, worry once again settling as Moody growled under his breath. Dumbledore had left, and I considered staying put, wondering what was going on before following him, taking the plate of brownies with me.

"Those were my nightmares," I said, thoughts jumbled and wild, "Why were you looking at those? They're just nightmares, I've had them ever since I got here."

"I saw much more than bad dreams, Ella, much more than I allowed you to see," Dumbledore said, hand closed around Floo powder.

"What?"

But he had flung the powder into the fireplace, filling it with emerald flames.

"Come now," he called, holding out his hand for me. "We don't want to keep Mrs Figg waiting."

Against my better judgement I placed my hand in his, and together we were engulfed by the fire and stepped out into a room that had the distinct scent of cabbage.

The room that I surmised was the living room was dark, the curtains shut but with the slightest slither of light escaping through a narrow gap. They were old and green, mismatched chairs with sickly yellow cushions and crocheted covers. To my utter surprise, a tail swished out of one of the cushions, a mouth opened wide in a yawn, followed by blinking eyes, and it wasn't a cushion at all, but a very furry cat.

"Ah, good afternoon, Mr Tibbles," Dumbledore greeted the cat with the squished face. "You wouldn't happen to know where Arabella is, would you?"

The cat let out a throaty _meow_ and snuggled back into itself. A woman shuffled around the corner, frizzy grey fly-away hair nestled under a hairnet.

"Albus Dumbledore," she said, "How nice to see you. I've just been out in front, Harry's outside again. Ah, I expect you aren't here long."

"Unfortunately not, Arabella. I've brought along Ella Wood," Dumbledore said.

"Hello," I said with a nervous smile, standing straight when I realised I couldn't see through the exposed net curtain or behind the large bush separating the houses.

"Ella dear," her face wrinkled around her grin and a black tooth prodded out from her gums, "How nice to meet you. Oh, it's so nice for another squib to be a part of the Order. How is it going for you?"

Stunned silence overtook me until I finally found my words.

"Well, I've only just started so…"

"Ah, I see. Mr Tibbles," Mrs Figg snapped at the cat until he lifted its head. "Go on and keep an eye on Harry, that's it, good boy, go on now, under the car you go."

The cat meowed and jumped off the sofa, rubbing itself against Mrs Figg's legs as it exited the room.

"Sorry, Albus, but I can't bear the thought of Harry being left under the watch of that awful Mundungus, not on his own," she said.

"It's quite alright my dear," Dumbledore said, lifting her hand and pressing a kiss on the back of it, "And I'm afraid I must run along now, I have Alastor waiting for me. I'm sure you can keep Ella occupied until I come back for her."

"Of course, of course, no problem at all. Off you go now, mister busy wizard."

"I'll be back once we've finished going over the charms, Ella," Dumbledore informed me. He picked up a brownie and inspected it before popping it into his mouth. "Take care."

"But sir –"

He disappeared into the green embers, and I was left with a million thoughts banging inside my head. What had we seen back in the kitchen? Why were they acting so suspicious? Something had been in my garden, I knew it, and it confirmed my own suspicions of feeling watched in Ottery. But who – surely a matter much bigger than Stephen Casey. Alongside those qualms was how Dumbledore didn't manage to get any crumbs scattered in his silver beard.

"I'll take those from you, love, ta. Dear Harry will love these," Mrs Figg murmured, grabbing the plate out of my hands and scuttling off to the kitchen. "Sit down, make yourself at home."

Perching myself on the edge of a chair, I surveyed the room more closely and noticed another cat sleeping inside a rotten slipper. All along the tables and walls were even more still pictures of cats. Brushing my hand on the fabric of the chair showed cat fur flying through the stream of sunlight with dust particles. I pressed my lips together.

"That's Snowy," came Mrs Figg's voice as she re-entered the room, a thick book in hand. On the coffee table, what I first assumed was a large ball of cotton wool, stretched another fluffy cat, and I amused myself with the thought of poor Mrs Figg accepting a cat infestation due to loneliness.

She sat herself beside me and opened the book which I now realised was a photo album.

"I thought we'd help time go along by going through my family," she smiled, eyes sinking into her face.

"What about Order work?" I asked. "Aren't we meant to be watching Harry? Making sure he's safe?"

"Us? Oh no, that's for Mundungus to do, it's his turn today, the daft little gnome. What could _we_ possibly do? No, I just watch him every now and then. The boy can't stand being within a foot's distance of me. Now, here's my first little –"

"Why not?"

"Because he's not supposed to," she chuckled as if to a silly child.

"But why? I thought the Dursleys were really horrible to him."

"Dumbledore's rules. If everyone understood Dumbledore he wouldn't be the greatest wizard, would he now, hm?"

A _crack_ went off in the distance, and both Mrs Figg and I looked to the window.

"What was that?" I asked, although I had an inkling, having heard a similar noise before. Shouting was heard from next door: the Dursleys. I grit my teeth and was ready to storm outside when Mrs Figg stopped me.

"Never you mind," she said, and then grumbled under breath something that I couldn't hear. "So, these pictures now."

I felt disheartened that my evening would be wasted away looking at photos. It had been foolish of me to think that I could ever be useful in the fight against Voldemort. The sudden noise

Nevertheless, I steeled myself, anticipation slowly building at the family of another squib. I looked down at the first page and my stomach dropped once more. Displayed in the photo album were even more cats.

"These were all yours?"

"Oh yes, I've been breeding kneazles and cats for many years now. They're all I have, my lovely, wonderful cats," she grinned down at the album, and I was mortified to see some moisture build up in her eyes.

"What about your human family, Mrs Figg?" I asked softly, eyeing her quivering lip.

"I had a husband once," she murmured, "A little, stout muggle. Brian. How wonderful he was."

There was no doubt that poor Brian Figg was dead. I left the questions unasked.

"Do you have someone special in your life, Ella? Besides your family."

"My family are dead," I said vacantly. "But I do have someone special – a boyfriend, Fred."

She smiled sweetly. "Wizard?" At my nod she continued, "He must be a good boy."

"He is. The best."

Three hours later and Mrs Figg had gone through both photo albums and an entire box of tissues. Her sniffs had gotten the best of her as she recounted the story of each cat, how she had come upon them, bonding them together, watching them grow with babies of their own and then selling them. Although her narration had been full of love and happiness I noticed the underlying sadness of having loved something so much to part with it, allowing it a precious life and love she could not offer wholly.

The evening brought along a breeze that cooled the earlier heat. It had been hotter in Ottery, but Mrs Figg's house was humid; only her garden door remained open. A glass of water sat on a coaster, condensation dripping down the sides. Fanning my hands around my sticky skin, Mrs Figg went to dispose of her used tissues.

"Ella, I'm just off out to get some cat food, you'll be alright here, won't you?" she asked as she entered the room, her purse over her arm.

"Can't I come with you?"

"I think it's best if you stay put. I'll be back in no time," she said as she left the house.

I groaned loudly at the click of the door shutting, falling back and immediately regretting it as my t-shirt stuck to my back. The kitchen did not offer much for decent food, I found, searching through the cupboards and fridge and finding only stale bread, eggs, half a tin of tuna and cucumber. The smell of cabbage was even stronger; there was a large pan with cabbages boiling inside. I hoped Dumbledore would Floo in any second, even my brownies were nowhere to be seen.

Stomach growling even louder, I decided to walk it off a bit. I wouldn't go too far, just up and down the road. Maybe even see if I could see the Dursleys through their window. I hadn't heard anything from their house for a while and wondered what they could be doing. It was too early for bed.

As soon as I opened the front door Mr Tibbles ran inside and jumped up on my leg, his claws digging into my leg.

"Ow!" I yelped, jumping back as the half kneazle ran back out.

Pushing Mrs Figg's orders aside I followed Mr Tibbles, knowing from experience with Kiwi that a startled cat always had a reason causing its distress. He streaked down the street and around corners, shooting ahead until I was sure I had lost sight of him, only finding him from his mewls. He stopped by an approaching Mrs Figg.

"Mr Tibbles – Ella," she glared, in her hand a string shopping bag weighed down by tins of cat food and still wearing her tartan slippers and hairnet. "What on earth are you doing here? I thought I told you –"

Too busy catching my breath, Mr Tibbles yowled at her.

No longer was it summer where I stood, the air colder than the iciest winter's day. Shivers erupted all over my skin and I heard something draw long, rattling breaths, like a skeleton breathing, but looking around I saw nothing. A sense of dread came over me, and I was consumed with horrible thoughts that had settled in my mind since they had first materialised. Fred finally wanting rid of me because I'm a squib. George pushing away my friendship. Dumbledore no longer allowing me to attend Hogwarts. My father taking me. Loneliness. The snake, the hissing, so much black…

I had never felt so cold, so full of terror before, as if my soul was waning. I could hardly breathe. All life around the area was cut off from my senses, the sounds of cars dying as if they had all stopped at once, the streetlamps blinking off and the stars fading out. We were in complete darkness, in mind and life. My heart hitched.

It was only when Mrs Figg gasped and ran off in her slippers did I ignore the chill and run off after her. Several times I staggered from the intensifying fright, the images opening in my mind mounting in their horror. Jets of green and red blinding me in the darkness.

Harry's voice broke through; I pushed my legs harder, sprinting past Mrs Figg and turning into an alleyway. A wave of light surged past me, surrounding me in delicious warmth that my body soaked in greedily. He turned around, wand held high as the white stag dissolved. Moon, stars and streetlamps burst back into life. A warm breeze swept away the cold, trees rustled, and the mundane rumble of cars filled the alleyway once again.

Laying curled up on the ground, whimpering and shaking, was a large body – a muggle. Mrs Figg ran over to Harry, her hair even more uncontrollable from the haste in which she moved. Seeing who he presumed was his batty muggle neighbour, Harry attempted to slide his wand up his sleeve.

"Don't put it away, idiot boy!" Mrs Figg shrieked, and I was bemused at how angry she sounded; it seemed an emotion out of her boundaries. "What if there are more of them around? Oh, I'm going to _kill_ Mundungus Fletcher!"

Harry met my eyes, quickly looking back to Mrs Figg and then to me again.

"What?" said Harry blankly.

Mrs Figg wrung her hands together, cursing aloud Mundungus Fletcher, whom had left his guard duty for cauldrons, completely missing the arrival of Dementors. I had read about the creatures but did not see them. I zoned out of her declaration of being a squib, wondering why I hadn't seen any Dementors and who would possibly leave Harry when he was in danger.

A hysterical Mrs Figg caught my attention; the two were attempting to lift up the unconscious lump on the ground.

"Here, let me," I said, taking the arm Mrs Figg had seized and heaving, Harry tugging on the other. "Alright, Harry?"

"What are you doing here?" he gasped as we successfully dragged the muggle up. His weight was too much, and we sagged under his arms.

"Honestly? I have no bloody idea."

He gave a breathless chuckle.

"Keep your wand out," Mrs Figg snapped at Harry, walking ahead of us. She rambled on about the Statute of Secrecy, and it was then I was reminded that Harry was still underage. He had used magic in front of a muggle. Would he get in trouble? He had done it to protect himself, so surely not. Even the Ministry could understand the circumstance of him having to use magic. I tripped over a rock and stumbled, focusing on maintaining a good hold as I proceeded.

"Who's this?" I asked Harry, gesturing to the body we were holding.

"Dudley," he wheezed out.

"Your cousin."

Harry nodded, the difficulty of having to haul Dudley and hold his wand steady showing on his face, and I was pleased to see him dig his cousin in the ribs. It did nothing to sober the boy, his feet dragging even more.

The two conversed some more, much involving what I had asked earlier on the reasoning for Dumbledore's orders. Mrs Figg went off again, more _Mundungus this, Mundungus that_. Wishing she would shut up before our spines snapped under Dudley's weight, there was a loud _crack, _and a squat, unshaven man in a tattered overcoat appeared, bringing with him a strong smell of sour drink with stale tobacco that had my stomach rolling.

"MUNDUNGUS FLETCHER I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"

Mundungus Fletcher had long, straggly washed out ginger hair and bloodshot, baggy eyes. In his hands he held a silvery bundle that Harry eyed suspiciously.

"S'up, FIggy, and new girl," he said, eyes raking over each person, "What 'appened to staying undercover?"

"I'll give you undercover!" Mrs Figg cried in outrage. "_Dementors, _you useless, skiving sneak thief!"

"Dementors? Dementors, 'ere?" he gasped, aghast.

"Yes, here, you worthless pile of bat droppings, here!" she shrieked. I would have laughed if I wasn't breaking under the monstrous dead weight. "Dementors attacking the boy on your watch! Even they knew how unreliable you are."

"Blimey," Mundungus mumbled weakly.

"And you off buying stolen cauldrons! Didn't I tell you not to go?"

"I – Well, I –" Mundungus shifted uncomfortably. "It was a very good business opportunity, see –"

The old woman shook angrily, her red face scrunched. Raising the arm with her string bag, she whacked Mundungus around the face. I winced, hearing the thudding of the tins of cat food against the short wizard.

"Ouch – gerroff – gerroff, you mad old bat! Someone's gotta tell Dumbledore!" he yelped, his outstretched hands taking the impact from the attack.

"Yes – they – have!" yelled Mrs Figg, swinging the bag at every available part of Mundungus she could reach, his hands following and feet scuttling back.

"Keep your 'airnet on! I'm going! I'm going!"

Lifting her arm, she swung the bag down only for it to hit the air, a _crack_ signalling Mundungus' departure.

"Oh, the rotten – I hope Dumbledore _murders_ him!" Mrs Figg raged furiously. "Didn't even bother to apparate you home, now worries, Ella, you'll just have to wait a little longer. Come _on, _Harry, what are you waiting for?"

We both tugged harder on Dudley's meaty arms and staggered forward.

"I'll take you to the front," Mrs Figg said as she turned onto Privet Drive. "Just in case there are more of them around…oh my word, what a catastrophe…and you had to fight them off yourself…" – ("Wouldn't be the first time, right, Harry?" I whispered with a smirk, recalling the twins' re-enactment of their version of him in his third year. Now that the danger was over with I was energised and full of excitement.) – "and Dumbledore said we were to keep you from doing magic at all costs…well, it's not good crying over spilt potion, I suppose…but the cat's among the pixies now."

"So," Harry started, panting, "Dumbledore's…been having me…followed?"

"Of course he has," Mrs Figg answered, and I shrugged as well as I could, trying to let him know that I was only recently involved. "Did you expect him to let you wander around on your own after what happened in June? Good Lord, boy, they told me you were intelligent…"

A breathless laugh escaped me, quickly turning into a raspy cough as Mrs Figg whipped around to scowl at me.

"Right…get inside and stay there," she said as we approached house with the number four printed on the door. "I expect someone will be in touch with you soon enough."

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked quickly, looking to both me and his neighbour.

"I'm going straight home, and I believe Ella will be on her way too," I opened my mouth, ready to protest as Mrs Figg stared around the dark street with a shudder. How could she expect me to go home with absolutely no idea what was happening, not even an explanation on the Dementor attack, or this guard duty business? "I'll need to wait for more instructions. Just stay in the house. Goodnight."

"Hang on, don't go yet! I want to know –"

But Mrs Figg had already trotted off. Harry shouted after her, but she was gone. He scowled, then, realising he wasn't the only one supporting his cousin, turned to me.

"What are you doing here?" he asked again, manoeuvring Dudley's arm. He sent a quick glance to number four.

"As fucking clueless as you," I said blankly, eyes still on the patch of darkness Mrs Figg had vanished in. "Dumbledore said he needed to check over my house and brought me here. If anything what little bits I have been told has only left me more confused." I sighed. "I should probably go."

"Wait, don't," he pleaded. "You saw Dumbledore?"

"Yeah, he came to my house – in Ottery. Said he had to look over the protective charms."

The dead bird came back into my mind and I shivered. I did not want to back. Not in the slightest. Screw the possibility of going home to Fred's letter, I wanted Fred.

"So _you_ get protective charms and I don't? What kind of shit is that?"

I would have been annoyed at his complete disregard of my blood, my family, the threat following me, had he known a thing about it other than my being a squib. He had his own issues, his own nightmares coming alive.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"It's fine. I'll help you get him to the door – what do his parents _feed him?_"

With the last of our strength we hauled Dudley's still unconscious form up the dark path, grunting as our shoulders and back ached.

"Diddy!" a female voice called. Harry looked over to me, eyes wide, and with a tilt of his head I escaped from under the arm, watching Harry's face crumple at the extra weight before he too let go and ducked.

"Go!" he whispered, waving his hand.

Mrs Figg was pacing in her living room when I returned. She paid me no mind, continuing to mumble under her breath. Her hairnet was askew on her head and her feet bare, looking entirely unstable. Clearing my throat, she looked up and sighed.

"You should be off home now," she said weakly.

"What about Dumbledore?"

"I'm sure he's done. He has Mundungus to worry about now," she said, lip curling.

"Mrs Figg, about what happened, this Order work –"

"This is not for me to talk about," she said quickly. "Go on home now, no doubt you'll be told everything quite shortly." Then, falling into her own world again, murmured, "Oh, Albus, whatever do you have up your sleeve. Poor children. So much danger, so much. No more pain, please. Stop this."

"Goodbye, Mrs Figg," I said, standing in the fireplace, watching her with worried eyes.

"Yes, yes, goodbye," she said, smiling tiredly. "Perhaps I'll see you again someday."

"I hope so," I said, closing my eyes as I called out my house in Ottery St. Catchpole. Opening my eyes, I was met with lavender walls and a pistachio-green sofa, the room flooded in silence and peace that was absent in Surrey.


	34. The Sweetness of Bubblegum

**Well isn't this a quick update! I've been busting my arse to get this down. My head's been all over the place and I have to say special thanks to _Chaparrita_ for grinning and bearing through my crap and helping me with the final touches. You're brilliant. I know I promised more Frella...but there'll be plenty to come.**

**Thanks also to all the follows/favourites/reviews. Thank you to _Guest_ for your review - my favourite compliment has to be people enjoying the different take on my fanfiction.**

**Also - any Final Fantasy fans who read this and want to cry with me over the remake of 7?! I can't wait!**

**I'm curious guys, when you imagine Ella, do you have a certain celebrity or another fictional character in mind? I'd love to hear what you guys imagine her to look like! Or who she most closely resembles. I found someone recently who I think fits her description most but I want to see what you lot think first before I say.**

**As always, enjoy!**

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34\. The Sweetness of Bubblegum

* * *

Looking out the kitchen window into the garden I noticed the grass was overgrown and dead, no longer a luscious green but a desiccated yellow. Jimmy's grave was hidden amongst the dominating weeds; shrubs completely dwarfed the border at the edges of the garden; insects feasting on the leaves of rotten fruits and vegetables. Squirrels no longer even frequented the tall trees at the back, perhaps sensing the demise of the land. No longer able to tend to the garden, I watched it decay before my eyes, the shrivelling of organic life.

I saw this, but didn't dwell on it. Tired eyes flew around the shadows oppressing the once heavenly garden, waiting for the movement I knew was there. The wind would blow, I would hold my breath, but nothing would charge out. There was something – someone – out there. I _knew_ it. Why else had Moody stared out for so long? Not to inspect the garden, I was sure; he didn't seem the type to enjoy his spare time in wellies and gloves delicately arranging the composition of hydrangeas and chrysanthemums.

The time was somewhere between two and three in the morning. My harried sleep disturbed yet again, I ambled down to the kitchen, the only thing that kept my senses alert.

Ever since I was young there had only been a select few recurring nightmares, all so similar to one another that it was hard to distinguish between them. And yet, since Dumbledore's intrusion into my mind, I woke up from a new one every night. I couldn't make sense of any of it and he had not visited again to answer the hundreds of queries I had.

It was pointless trying to prevent sleep. As much as I did try, slumber eventually pulled me under with calm whispers and comfort that abandoned me in life. Light fluttering in the tree caught my attention; I exhaled the air I had held when a fox jumped up on the back fence and trotted away.

Tonight's nightmare had been fuzzy, a similar scene to the blond man in bed, but this time he was standing in a suit, marching in front of a line of his peers, men and women in dark robes, the woman with a mane of curls. Once again he had looked straight at me, whispered to me from across the room…

"_It's alright, princess, this is good for you. Just open your pretty pink lips."_

And like before, his curse was silenced, as if blocked out by a bubble, but instead of waking up before it hit me, I felt it.

A shudder wracked through me, the vivid sensations printed so clearly in my mind. My hands flew to my abdomen, soothing the phantom stabs and fire. I sighed deeply and sipped on some coffee, no longer hot and steaming. After a final glance through the window, I retreated to the living room, hoping for some hours of peace before work.

I sat, staring at the blank TV screen, remembering the first time I introduced it to Fred. He had been sitting down on the sofa, eyes following my every movement as I pushed the button to turn it on and then grabbed the remote, altering the volume and switching between channels. His grin didn't falter, but he didn't exclaim in awe and fascination as George had done previously.

"Why aren't you excited?" I had asked.

"Oh, you didn't know! I'm sorry," he'd apologised, ears a slight pink.

"Didn't know what?"

"I've seen a television before," he had admitted, pulling me down to sit beside him. "At Lina's. We watched that show…what was it called…Bottom! That's it. Right brilliant."

As much as I was disappointed that all my anticipation of introducing him to everything muggle was futile, in the moment I had been more shocked over his correct pronunciation. He had been aware of all muggle objects in my house. The telephone, the electric appliances, the sockets, he knew them all and looked at me like a parent amusing a child pointing at soaring birds as I dragged him around my house. Of course, he still showed some interest at the exact science to which they performed without magic, things I couldn't answer which left me feeling awkward and foolish. And then it hit me who exactly had showed him, had seen his initial excitement and grinned at his childlike curiosity.

My reflection was visible in the television. Hair scruffy around my head. Eyes drooping and dark. Hunched forward, forearms resting on knees, the very posture of stress. _So_ tired. I sunk into the back of the sofa.

A week had passed. A week with no Fred holding me, kissing me, warming me, keeping me safe. No letter, no visit, no word, nothing. I couldn't even go to him. He lived so close…but where? I didn't know; I had yet to see the Burrow. He had been absent since before my first Order mission with Mrs Figg. Returning home galvanised I was unable sleep, but the incident with the suicidal bird had me fearing a late night walk, so I had settled for walking around the house over and over again until I collapsed.

The need for Fred was stifling, and I _hated_ the helpless feeling that consumed me whenever I thought of wanting him like a weak damsel unable to control her emotions and silly fear.

My head shot up as footsteps were heard, and I was no longer on the pistachio-green sofa surrounded by off lavender walls and the faint smell of vanilla and musk, rather, I was in a bed, curled up on my side in a large, dark room. It was cold, or I thought it was; I was shivering, hands clutching the red blanket over my nose. _Click, click, click, _the footsteps were nearing fast, my heart thumping in synchronisation. _Click, click..._The intricate handle on the door turned; it was pushed open, and the outline of a man appeared.

_Click…click…_his feet were slower in their approach to my bed, careful. Head tilted to the side, the moonlight illuminated the smirk on his face, the red rimmed eyes and tousled blond hair. He stood in front of me, leering down. His right hand held a wand which he waved, and the door slammed shut, the sound of a lock following. I gulped down a whimper. From his left hand dropped a glass bottle, slight sloshing as it rolled. He crouched, eyes level to mine. I didn't even try to hide. Eyes stared ahead of me, gazing through him at the bookcase I knew was behind him, holding numerous volumes of glorious fairy tales where my mind flew away.

His hand hovered over my face, and the cry escaped. White, slightly crooked teeth shone.

"Shh, love," he crooned, fingers stroking my skin. "Shh, I'm here."

I sniffled, and he wiped away the moisture from under my nose with a thumb. The harsh stench from his mouth burned my eyes, the smell of a gruelling day at work, of another failure which he would rectify in a way that he was reassured always prospered. It was a dark smell, malty. Tainted gold. It stung.

Then the blanket began to slide off my body.

"It's alright, baby," he whispered, pressing his lips to my forehead.

I knew what happened next. I didn't know how I knew, but I _knew, _like remembering snippets of a long forgotten dream. The soft blanket pooled around my ankles, displaying the bottom of my nightdress. Another kiss on my cheek, and his hand edged it up. With the loss of the blanket, my fingers gripped onto the pillow under my head. I couldn't shut my eyes, and stared ahead at the spines of books, finding no comfort in the delightful worlds I was so distanced from. I was no princess, regardless of what this man said, how he worshipped me as in the dead of night. Princesses had luxury, an adoring family, and above all love. _Love._

Was this love?

My nightdress now above my stomach, his hand danced over the exposed skin of my abdomen, lower down to my thighs. He pinched my skin; I yelped.

"Shh, quiet, princess. You need to behave," he admonished, rubbing his fingers over my red skin. From the corner of my eye I saw him raise his wand. "I love you."

The tip of the wand was hot on my skin. A whispered incantation, and the heat grew agonisingly hot like liquid fire dripping down to my bones. I bit my lip to stop the cries from taking over, tears soaking my face and dampening the pillow. The wand dug deeper into my thigh. Slowly, it drug down, taking with it the hot wax seeping through me. _Hot, hot pain_. Pain and fire so bad it prickled through my blood, touching every inch of me from head to toes. Stabs from a thousand poisoned needles. A sob choked through my bloody lips, "Please!" I whispered desperately, gasping, "Please, stop."

And the wand was gone, but the fire was still red hot in my veins. He soothed the burn on my leg with his lips and tongue, then brought his face up to mine, smoothing my hair back.

"You did well, princess, you were so, _so _good. I love you. My little soldier. My witch.

"Daddy loves you."

My leg jerked as I arched off the sofa, one I immediately noted was pistachio-green. Sweat saturated my body, beads dotting my face and neck. My face fell into my hands.

It was just another nightmare, I told myself. Just a nightmare.

Seeing as the sun was up and I was due at work shortly, I decided to get started with the day.

Two owls were pecking on the kitchen window when I entered, and I was thankful they weren't flying to their death. Opening the window, I noticed one held two letters. Thinking it was from Fred and George, I grabbed them first as the birds flew out, dissatisfied with the lack of treats, but they were stamped in wax with the Hogwarts crest. Looking at the other letter I recognised Oliver's large handwriting.

Pushing my anger towards the twins away, I tore open the first letter from Dumbledore, and a grin lifted my face at seeing my results. Two O's! I was not surprised to see the capitalised letter beside Care of Magical Creatures, but the shock from seeing it next to Potions had me letting out surprised hollow laughs. The rest were decent, E's and an A, and even the little P adjacent to Ancient Runes couldn't ruin the mood. A small slip of parchment behind the results sheet was a personal note of congratulations from Dumbledore.

Moving on to his next letter, which was much heavier, I was surprised to see galleons and sickles sitting in a tiny midnight blue pouch.

_Dear, Ella Wood,_

_Once again, I must congratulate you on your hard work for passing your third year exams in one year. This is a great accomplishment to which I am sure you will be most proud of, as are all your professors. _

_Due to the complicated ending of the last term at Hogwarts, you were not paid your wages for your work carried out, and I have therefore enclosed them to you. You may convert them into muggle currency if you so wish at Gringotts in Diagon Alley, however I most advise you to invest in some school robes of your own; Mr Weasley's seem slightly large. As well as a uniform, you will also need to purchase some school books for your next school year. These will be available in Flourish and Blotts, also in Diagon Alley._

_The books in question will be for your OWLs which you will be entered to take in your next year, levelling you with the fifth years. However, you will only be eligible to enrol if you pass few exams before the Christmas holidays. More information will be available once you return to school._

_Now, Ella, I understand your state of confusion after my visit, but I assure you not to worry. You are under great protection. No harm will come to you this summer, so please, do not fret. _

_Enjoy the remainder of your holidays, I'm sure it will only get better. _

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_PS. Bubblegum is one of life's greatest confectionaries, particularly the pink ones._

For the first time in over a week I felt light. After a little jig and squeal on the spot at going over my grades again, I moved on to Oliver's short letter, eyes flying over the usual '_how are you'_s and '_Quidditch is still marvellous'_, distracting me from the thought of not being able to share my grades with anyone until they came to visit. How unlikely.

At work Mrs Brimble ran the counter as I waited for the kettle to boil. The small window above the sink allowed a distorted view of my forlorn garden. The day had dragged on and I was sure I was on my sixth mug of tea. I had asked Mrs Brimble and Zoe if they had cared for another, but they declined, and even in my weary state I saw them share a glance.

The kettle clicked off and I poured the water over the teabag, stirring it until it darkened; removed the teabag and splashed in some milk. I gulped it down, hardly feeling the burn trickle down my sore throat.

Few customers were in the shop, one fingering through the various newspapers, another, a child, searching through the freezer at the different ice creams, and the final one waiting for Mrs Brimble to find the requested cigarettes. I strolled over to the quiet end of the shop and organised the bottles and cans of drinks on the refrigerated shelves. It was a fairly monotonous job requiring little energy and thinking. I must have begun to doze off as my arms moved them around routinely and I jumped when a hand rested on my shoulder.

"Ella, are you alright?" Mrs Brimble asked with a frown.

Blinking several times to clear my vision of the blurring haze, I nodded, and to ensure her, I plastered a smile on my face. It didn't work. She frowned deeper.

"Maybe you should go home, get some rest. We can handle the shop until closing time."

"No, it's fine, I'm fine, I can stay and help."

But she was shaking her head and patting my wild hair down.

"Ella."

I knew I wouldn't be able to argue with her; her stance was firm.

"Can I go home, too?" Zoe called from elsewhere in the emptying shop.

"You be quiet, missy," Mrs Brimble replied, never moving her eyes.

She grumbled and cursed, stomping around like a bratty child.

"Are you sure?" I asked, already anticipating a nice, long walk around town.

"I can handle my daughter, as difficult as she is," she smiled.

"Thank you," I said.

Zoe was behind the counter, having taken her mother's place when she moved. I said my goodbye to her, and she asked if I was alright, and when I nodded, she smirked.

"Bunking off early to see Fred, are you?"

"If only," I said.

"I'll come and see you later, have a little sleep over. Sound good?"

"You still have the spare key?"

"Of course," she said, dangling keys and keychains from her finger.

I waved one last time before leaving the shop, hoping Zoe's presence would hold the nightmares away for at least one night.

Instead of turning right to go home next door, I began walking left, through the market until I reached the pebbled residential streets lined with Victorian style houses. I had often walked down these hilly roads on my way home from school. The houses were all so beautiful, decorated with the brightest of flowers throughout summers and garlands in the winter. They made my flat house look plain, and I had often wondered why we didn't live in such a place at that age of naivety.

I carried on, allowing the engines of cars and the summer heat to envelop me, the sound of security. I was safe where there was life. Sounds, feelings, smell; the senses cocooned me. It was why I so feared being home alone in the dark, the shell void of life but mine. And even then, what kind of a life was mine?

Soon I came upon the bridge overlooking River Ottery and realised I had been walking for quite a while. Pink and orange painted the sky. Leaning against the railing I wondered if it was the same sky Fred was looking at. Then I laughed. Fred didn't do simple, boring gestures such as looking up at the sky. He could fly on a broomstick and _be one_ with the sky, Heaven's eye to the world. He could breathe in the clouds; I wondered, were they as sweet as they looked, like tufts of sugar in the endless abyss above? Salute the stars and the illuminating king of the sky. Lost to the simple calamities of earth.

I wanted that, I thought with a pull at my heart. It was the life I had been denied by some awful twist of fate. And now what was I? Some…abnormal freak.

Pink and orange melted away to purple, and then came blue, the darkest imaginable. I turned and walked back home.

The streets were safe at night, the ones I frequented. But I felt anything but safe, looking over my shoulder as I rounded every corner. There was nothing there; there never was. I stumbled as I walked into something.

"Easy there, girl," he said, hands gripping my arms, steadying me. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"What are you doing here?" I asked, squirming away from Stephen. He let go.

"Can't I be out for an evening stroll? I see you had the same idea." He put his hands in his pockets, and I realised he looked less intimidating in such a relaxed posture, even though his grey eyes shone. No, Stephen Casey never looked anything but intimidating.

"I'm on my way home."

"Here, let me walk you. Who knows what could happen to such a pretty girl out at this time of night."

I jerked away from his hand as it neared me. "I'll be fine."

"Now, I wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I let you go on your own, now."

He was following me. I could hear his feet. They were slow, keeping their distance, and I was reminded of a cat stalking its prey before springing. He was probably looking at my behind, I realised, and pulled my top down as much as I could. _Gentleman_. I thought back to my previous encounters with him, internally scoffing.

It was when I reached the market did his footsteps merge with the few others making their way home. I hurried to the door and opened the door, fumbling with the key for only seconds before I managed to squeeze in and slam it shut.

As was my usual routine, I switched on the lights as I went from room to room before returning to the front door. Pressing my ear against the wood, I heard nothing directly outside.

"Shower," I murmured to myself, and jumped up the stairs two at a time.

Halfway through my shower I heard knocking.

"Zoe?" I yelled, leaning out the bathroom door as it was the only way she would be able to hear me over the running water.

"Mhm," she hummed.

"Come in, door's locked. Still got your key?"

She didn't respond, but the lock twisted and I went to finish my shower, knowing she would entertain herself until I went down.

What I wasn't expecting was a pounding on the bathroom door and what sounded to be running on the stairs.

"Zoe?" I called out, turning the water off and wrapping a towel around myself.

She didn't reply. There was a scuffle from the hallway, and a light glowed from under the door. The door burst open, and I saw pink. Bubblegum pink.

"Shit! Shush! No – sorry, please, be quiet – Ella – _Ella!_" the woman with ludicrously bright pink hair exclaimed, holding her hands up as if it would quiet my screaming.

"Who are you?" I asked, backing away as I noticed a wand in her hand. "Where's Zoe?"

She turned her head to what I was looking at and pushed her hand with the wand further to the side. "I won't hurt you, I'm here on Dumbledore's orders and if we don't hurry we're both fucked."

Hearing Dumbledore's name pacified me somewhat, but still my gaze flickered between her face and wand.

"Hurry for what? Who are you?"

"Oh," she fumbled around in her pocket, handing me a rumpled slip of parchment, throwing a glance over her shoulder, "Read that."

Written on the parchment was an address:

_12 Grimmauld Place_

"Auror Tonks, at your service," she said, holding out her free hand. I shook it cautiously. "And you're Ella. Don't worry, I've been informed about your issue."

"What issue?"

"Oh," her mouth opened and closed and she ruffled her hair, words blundering over one another.

"What issue?" I repeated.

"Look, there's no time, really. I'll explain – or someone will when we get to that address."

"Where is this?"

"In London, come on."

"Wait!" she ran out the bathroom and turned left, straight into my bedroom. "What are you doing?"

"Packing," she answered, throwing everything she laid her hands on into a bag, including old underwear that I had outgrown years ago but still had lying around for some reason. It was then I realised I was wearing only a towel.

"I – I need to change, get some clothes on."

"No time!" Tonks said, pulling me by the hand when I made to go to my wardrobe, my bag slung over her dainty shoulder.

"What do you mean no time? I can't go to London in a bloody _towel!_"

"London has clothes and you look hot in a towel, now hold on, and close your eyes if you need to."

There was a noise from the hallway, one I couldn't quite make out over the blood in my ears.

"What was that? Zoe? Zoe!" Fingers gripping tighter onto my towel I tried to peer out but Tonks' hand was tight around my own and she yanked me back.

"Oi! That's not your friend, she was never here. What did I just say – come _on_, Ella."

She didn't wait for me to close my eyes after all, or for me find stable footing, as I saw the scene spiral before my eyes and I was sucked into a tiny tube; my organs squeezed and pushed against each other, a tightening in my chest as my sight went black, and then it was over as sweet, sweet air rushed into my lungs and I toppled onto my knees, finding grass beneath my palms.

"Alright, you'll probably be a bit quea –"

Her sentence went unfinished as I retched on the ground, my stomach forcing out the multiple cups of teas and little nibbles of food I had consumed. Once my stomach had emptied, Tonks helped me up on shaky legs and then to my utter embarrassment lifted my towel to cover me completely.

"Nothing I haven't seen before, don't worry," she said, turning towards the rows of houses that was definitely not in Devon.

"You apparated us to London," I noted.

"Yep. You read the parchment, right?"

I nodded. Just then the houses shifted, and like a very large balloon – or rather a bouncy castle seemed to be a better description – a house seemed to inflate between two of the houses, eleven and thirteen. Tonks skipped ahead, and very quietly tapped on the battered door with her wand. The windows were filthy and covered in a grime of some sort; the doorknocker a silver twisted serpent that screamed Slytherin. She set fire to the parchment with her wand-tip and dropped it as the fire burned it to her fingertips.

"Welcome to Grimmauld Place," Tonks whispered, eyebrows waggling. From behind the door I could hear several metallic clicks and the rattling of a chain. Slowly, the door creaked open.

"Why are we here?" I asked just as quietly, fidgeting at standing in an open place where anybody could see in just a towel. It didn't matter how at ease Tonks was, walking in London in only a towel was not a normal occurrence for me.

She took a step inside, still facing me, and said, "Where else would I be ordered to bring you but to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix?"

Stepping over the threshold where the only light came from poorly lit gas lamps along the walls and on the chandelier, the smell of damp and mould invaded my nose so much that I had to take a step back. The peeling wallpapers were covered in dirt and dust; I tucked myself more into body, afraid to touch anything in fear of infecting myself with something.

Chairs scraping could be heard from down below along with a chorus of, "Tonks is here!"

Before I could ask where I could go and put some clothes on, Tonks, still walking backwards, tripped over an umbrella stand that resembled a disfigured fat, hairy leg of some kind.

"Are you alright?" I asked, rushing forward to help her up.

Another voice screeched out, like the scratching of nails against a chalkboard, screaming profanities and curses. The voices from below all groaned; feet rushed up steps and a door opened, revealing several irritated faces storming towards the angry woman in the portrait.

"An arse whooping Auror whose job states that she has to be stealthy and yet she always manages to trip on the blasted troll leg," someone muttered, and I recognised the voice as Ron's. Which meant Weasleys.

Two _pops_ sounded behind me, and with all the people entering the hallway, I sunk further into myself and bowed my head to the ground, hoping to escape their notice; my body flushed in shock as I moved back into the shadows. I prayed no one looked, but the hallway was narrow, so it was only a matter of time. I didn't want to see them when they finally found me attempting to merge into the wall.

"Well, hello, there," a voice behind me drawled, freezing me on the spot. I knew that voice.

"What a lovely surprise we have here," an identical voice sang.

"You must be Tonks' friend."

"My, how lovely to meet you."

"And we most certainly don't mind the outfit."

"Not one bit."

I whirled around, coming face to face with two annoyingly cute smirks that I had missed. I had imagined seeing them again, thinking perhaps it would be a run in back in Ottery St. Catchpole. Assuming my building frustration would finally boil over, I thought I would stand firm in staring them down, demanding why they didn't bother writing or visiting. Not even a little check up when they knew something was wrong, dangerous. But to my surprise both anger and joy swept through me, and I found my happiness to be the heavier emotion as I leapt into Fred's arms, locking my arms around his neck and burying my face into his chest, all but forgetting that I was clad in only a towel.

"Ella?!" he said, squeezing me into him; he must not have noticed me from the back, and therefore would have been flirting with some random witch. It should have made me annoyed, but it was _Fred_. Fred whose arms never failed in making me feel warm and safe. Fred with the cheesy jokes and dirty innuendos.

Fred...with short hair.

"Hello," I laughed into his shirt, "I missed you."

"Of course you would," he pressed a kiss on my temple, then over my eye and down until he reached the corner of my mouth. I had to lift my face to kiss him properly, closing my eyes to fully enjoy the softness of his lips. Oh _God, _how I missed those lips.

We parted and I ran my fingers through his short strands. "Your _hair,_" I whimpered quietly so no one would hear as my eyes watered; everyone was occupied in trying to silence the shrill shrieks. "What the fuck?"

Fred chuckled. "We told you mum was after us."

"But...it was so _beautiful!_"

"And it's not now?" he teased, throwing his head back just like he used to, but no hair flew around him. I wanted to cry.

"You'll grow it back?" I asked, burying my face into him again, inhaling deeply.

"For you, anything." A kiss, and then, "What the hell are you doing here? What happened?"

"I have no clue."

"Well shit, don't you look good in a towel," said George, grinning, eliciting a chuckle from me.

"George Weasley!" I heard Mrs Weasley yell; I could picture her stern frown, fists on hips and intimidating in her wonderfully mismatched clothes. "Put your eyes somewhere decent before I give them to Severus to pickle in a jar and display in his dungeons."

"They're on the towel! That's decent."

"Oi – dick, move your eyes up," Fred ordered, slapping his twin, and I had the strangest idea that I was stretching too high, the towel following and showing far too much of my legs. Fred lowered his hands to the bottom of the towel and aided in covering me some more.

"Fred Weasley! Watch your language before your tongue goes with George's eyes. _Hands! _Up – move them!"

"Muuuuum, you can't tell me off in front of my girlfriend," Fred whined.

"Oh, shut up, Fred. Ella, dear, do turn around, let me see if you're alright."

I smiled up at him once more although I was sure it resembled more of a pained grimace before turning in his arms, one wrapped around my shoulder and the other around my waist, thumbs rubbing, cheek pressed against my own, and I was delighted to feel a light scruff scratching my skin. My eyes bulged at the crowd of people standing and staring, all amused at my attire and dripping hair. Tonks was grinning, and winked when I caught her eye, obviously immune to the awkwardness thick in the air.

A man with long black hair leant against the wall in front of the curtains that now covered the once screaming portrait, and beside him another man with dirty blond hair and a face covered in bruises and scars. They were the closest to me other than the twins and Molly.

"Another guest," the dark haired man said, arms crossed, "But by far the best entrance. Welcome to my home! Sirius Black, falsely convicted mass murderer and escapee from Azkaban prison."

"But don't let that intimidate you," said the man with the scars, "He's just an overgrown puppy, really. I'm Remus Lupin."


	35. Headaches

**I am indeed still alive and thank everyone who has given me a kick up the arse to update! It's finally here! I've missed my Bumble Bees (can I call my followers that?) I have started university and it is consuming my life as is basically being mum #2. Or maid. Whatever. I had started writing this before I even started but didn't manage to finish it because the information had to be consistent with the future of the plot. I may still have to come back to this chapter and edit it because I really wanted to update tonight, so yes, the ending will be rushed and rubbish. I'll try and sort that out as soon as I can. **

**Thanks as always to followers/favourites and reviews.**

**I've taken on a slightly different approach to this chapter in regards to my writing. Please tell me your opinions! Is it better? Too rambly? Did you prefer it before? Are you too happy that I'm back to care? Are you wondering why you still follow this story?**

**Enjoy**

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35\. Headaches

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The coarse fabric of the oversized t-shirt was constricting in the mixed heat of the sweltering summer night and the toasty kitchen, and yet the sleeves were too short, the material failing to be at a decent level of opaque to my liking. Could black get any darker? At the moment I hoped so. Not even mimicking the shadows offered consolation from the scuttling of ants on my skin, the feeling of eyes watching my every move.

It was silly, I chided myself, fiddling with the clothes I was so kindly lent upon finding my own bag full of thick jumpers and sleepwear, nothing suitable for a meeting with the inhabitants of the house. _I _was being silly. My entrance into Grimmauld Place had left an awkward impression, and even though the black cloth could not have been any darker I was fearful of the thought of having any more excess skin on show. My damp hair offered little solace to my sweaty skin, further drenching the t-shirt and sticking it to my back uncomfortably. Regardless of all the faults, the scent embedded into the fabric surrounding me was well worth it.

Realisation only hit me when I sat down at the dining table with everyone in the kitchen downstairs on just how many people there were in attendance at Grimmauld Place. There was the dark haired man, Sirius Black, lazed back in his chair, one hand stroking the fine fibres of his neat scruff as the other dangled off the back. His posture exuded a mien of careless confidence, bordering on arrogance perhaps, only slightly defeated by an almost wild glitter to his eyes and the endless up-down jerk of his leg. Beside him was the man who could have been perceived as dead in sleep, with grey tinged pale skin and an equally pallor state to his dirty blond hair. In spite of his deathly appearance the man offered a shy smile. Remus Lupin, if I remembered correctly.

The long table was laden with steaming dishes of food and half empty plates and glasses, suggesting that the residents had parted from their meal halfway through upon hearing Tonks' entry. No one made a move to resume their dinner, all sitting patiently, some impatiently (Ron noticeably shifting and eyeing his plate), and all waiting for some cue like polite orphans fearing the wrath of their matron. It came shortly after the tense silence in the form of the Weasley matriarch.

"Go on then everyone, let's not wait for the food to go cold," she said, squeezing herself between several chairs before seating herself down in hers. "We can all chat once our stomachs are filled."

With those few words the kitchen was filled with movement and noise as everyone scrambled for their cutlery and began conversing between bites. My plate was snatched for mere seconds before it was clunked down before me again, overflowing with meatballs, pasta and vegetables.

"Thanks," I offered to the kind patron beside me, keeping my head down and expression free of emotion. Picking up my fork, I slowly shuffled around the meatballs and sticks of carrot, all too aware of the gaze fixed on me. Although his scent was a warm welcome, actually speaking with him was another step I was as of yet unwilling to take. He could suffer in silence just as I had over the past week.

"Elle," he called, nudging me in the side. I brought the fork up to my lips and took a small bite of food to keep from responding. I wasn't hungry, could not even fathom the thought of food under the whirlwind of events, so it was no surprise when I finally swallowed that my stomach rolled and tossed the heavy protein and carbohydrates around. He tried again, elbow digging in a bit harder, but this time received an assault in return. Even after apparating it seemed my body was in no mood to accept nutrition. Or was it simply the distance of information I so desperately needed being within arm's reach, but dangling above my head to where it just skimmed my fingertips? I never could handle injustice very well.

Only minutes ago I had jumped into his arms and cried at his presence, his arms and lips consuming me. It was easy to be angry, I had initially thought, to dwell on the emptiness he had left me following his abrupt absence, the sleepless nights and endless days I had suffered through anxiously, constantly looking over my shoulder at whatever, _whoever,_ was hiding. Anger was what I had wanted to control me when I saw him, to spit words that paralleled the fire within.

(Thinking like a lovesick sap lusting over a teenage heartthrob, _oh how my heart pains me when he is far away and silent! How my soul withers from his silence!_ I internally cringed.)

Never had I imagined the relief that would burst from a bubble inside me at simply hearing his voice. It was then I realised that the prelude to our encounter was going to be harsh and bitter in my thoughts only. Not once did I pause to think of where he could have gone, or what kind of danger he and his family were possibly in, only that he was purposely sitting at home ignoring me. Ever since Dumbledore had mentioned the Order of the Phoenix and the Weasleys' unyielding support a fear had rooted itself deep in my mind unknowingly, digging its claws to my core. It was the fear that manifested the anger, of him being so careless as to add onto my paranoia regardless of intention.

What if he had faced danger and fallen to its merciless green spark? Would I ever have found out? Who would have told me? And what of George? Surely one twin without the other would be nothing short of catastrophic.

Joy was the easier emotion, natural, allowing my mind to drop all those thoughts that had me anchored to a jungle of stress. I had allowed instinct to take over, enabling myself the only comfort I knew and craved. I didn't regret it, for those few moments were a fleeting bliss in the otherwise current smog of my life. Perhaps the grey had always been there, and I had been blindly stumbling my way through, hands outstretched reaching for the nearest comfort. Grey was all I knew, after all, regardless of how long it had been since I was actually a part of that life. The dreariness of life, a routine and schedules and fulfilling expectations.

Fred was splashes of bright colours on a blank canvas. An addiction. My personal drug.

His incessant jabbing brought it all back, the loneliness, the fatigue, the _anger._ Red invaded my sight. How I longed to grab his arm and twist it away from me, to lay everything out and have him twitch in guilt. Fred was first and foremost a joker, laughing off the direst of threats aimed to him consisting of detentions and scrubbing plates by hand. It was his best and worst attribute. I had thought perhaps he would take his relationship with me a bit more seriously, understanding the needs of someone other than himself and his twin. Of course I wasn't expecting him to change completely and suddenly open up to me every secret he held, but surely a few words informing me of him no longer being in Ottery was not asking for much. It would have been one less worry on my mind.

The urge to explode was growing with every nudge, whisper and pinch. The only thing stopping me from outwardly showing my annoyance was the fact that we were not alone. His family were sitting with us, along with Hermione, Sirius, Remus, Tonks and some nameless others. I was not going to be the emotionally confused girlfriend that goes through extreme hormone changes; it wouldn't take much for me to keep my mouth shut until we were in the privacy of…wherever. Who knew how long I would be staying with these people? I wouldn't want a reputation of being volatile.

Another look around the table solidified Harry's absence and I could not help but wonder why Harry was not here after his collision with Dementors. Did Dumbledore think he was safe in Little Whinging with his awful family? I could not understand. I hadn't heard anything about Harry since leaving Mrs Figg's house. Ron and Hermione's hushed whisperings assured me they were worried about their friend. Did they know about the Dementors? They must have. Surely they were keeping correspondence. At least some were keeping tabs on their friends.

The charade of a normal dinner was lost on me, and more than anything I wanted to slam my hands on the table and demand to know what the hell happened at my home. Strangers had always nerved me, and I knew I would stay in my chair and pretend to involve myself in the meal, quietly slinking into the atmosphere until the moment came where the table would be cleared and all attention would be on me. The picture of the polite, innocent girlfriend. Across the table, Tonks was laughing with Ginny as if she had not engaged in some sort of combat in Ottery at all, and I was momentarily dumbfounded to see her pink hair an electric blue.

I must have been still and silent for too long as I felt a sharp flick on my cheek. The glare Fred caught from the corner of my eye was countered with a wink.

"Hey, Ella," he said, nudging me with enough force that my fork missed my mouth and spread sauce on my cheek.

"What?" I hissed, figuring that I couldn't ignore his obvious attempts to capture my attention without arousing suspicion from the others as I wiped my face clean with the nearest napkin.

"Can I have your meatball?"

Glancing at his plate I noticed he had shoved his vegetables to the side and had only a bit of pasta left. Knowing Fred, he had already spooned seconds and maybe even thirds of the meatballs onto his plate and was fully conscious of his mother's eyes on him, the laser-like squint burning his skin into allowing everyone else to have their share. His carefully tilted body, I noticed, blocked Mrs Weasley from seeing me completely. Even if I wasn't hungry and had no intention of eating it myself, I decided to let him squirm.

"That's no way to treat your guest, Frederick," I said, piercing the ball of meat with my fork and holding it in front of me.

"Not my house, so I'm technically a guest too," he retorted, eyes following my fork. "And it's Fred."

"Well, Frederick, you put it in my plate, therefore it's mine." Slowly, I brought the fork to my lips and scraped my teeth along the saucy round ball, taking the smallest of bites.

"I'm a growing boy," he uttered somewhat desperately.

He paused abruptly, instantly tickling my suspicions at what his next words were going to be. I knew it was unfair of me to go down that road, knowing how clueless he was to the mechanics of the female mind, but anything to give me a stronger ground for my anger towards him was worth it.

"Oh? So what am I?"

"Big enough." It was a quick reply, one he obviously didn't take time to think about. My assumption of his addition was right, but it still hurt, and I wondered why I even bothered asking when I knew it would only dampen my mood further. Yes, I needed more ammunition, but I had enough as it was. This was me intentionally hurting myself more. Maybe I deserved it, the harsh reality that no ally would willingly bestow. Was I telling myself to get used to it? To not blanket myself under a temporary shield of comfort? Because that was all it would be – temporary.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I brought the meatball closer to my mouth, giving the appearance of eating it whole.

"Wanna see what Tonks taught me?" he asked quickly. Before I could even contemplate his question my chair was turned until I was facing him, the screeching of the legs on the wooden floor pulling his siblings' eyes to us.

"Is it too difficult to allow me a moment of peace to actually eat my dinner?" I growled under my breath.

"That's not an answer," he countered with a flick on the nose. I was struck with an urge to bite his finger. The ease of simply _being_ with him, acting ordinary and forgetting everything around us was addicting, and I allowed him to take my arm. The positioning of his hands had my eyes widening, but before I could object he twisted the skin under his palms in opposing directions until I yelped at the intense burn.

"_Ah! _You _tosser!_" The exclamation left my mouth as his hands retreated from the red patch of skin, laughing at what I could only imagine was my bewildered expression. My hands did nothing to soothe my aching arm.

"Only for you, babe," he winked, taking advantage of my distraction and grabbed my fork, popping the meatball into his mouth. Twirling the now empty fork into the air, he added, "Sirius actually gave a hand with that as well, now that I think about it."

My hands froze, as did the low rumble of the discussion around the table. Across the table Sirius stared at the twin, eyes wide in alarm as it shifted between him and a glowering Mrs Weasley who had not missed my insult, nor his words. Noticing the attention of everyone, Fred mulled over his words. Seeming to come to the same conclusion as everyone else, he choked and stumbled over correcting himself. "N-no, not like _that! _I wouldn't – not Sirius – I don't – he's not – only Ella – old mags…oh shit."

"Fred Weasley," Mrs Weasley hissed as he buried his face in his hands, "You had better not be doing anything indecent or so help me…"

She didn't need to finish, her low voice and threat carrying over everyone. I shivered in my spot even though it was not aimed at me. I wondered if anyone else had a similar reaction.

"Got it, mum," Fred said, his voice muffled in the small air of space between his mouth and hands. His earlier wit at being reprimanded by his mother was nowhere to be seen. He was thoroughly embarrassed.

Ginny murmured under her breath, sending her surroundings into low chuckles, all silenced with a fierce glare by Fred. Even George couldn't help but be amused.

His humiliation did not last very long fortunately for him, as plates were soon cleared and dessert was set down. Halfway through digging up my sticky toffee pudding into a pile of sweet smelling brown mush, I had enough of the idle chatter and the twins' sniggers at whatever. How these people could sit as if there was no looming danger on the horizon, I didn't know. But they were not the ones who had been living under constant worry over a suspected ambush.

Setting my fork down, I cleared my throat, eyes flying over the numerous heads until they fell upon the one person who could answer me honestly, one who I hadn't registered before.

"Profes – Moody."

The wizard looked up from his plate and grunted. "Ella. Good to see you in one piece."

Catching the attention of the acting superior, Molly Weasley slammed her spoon down. "Alastor! Really, now, is this the time?"

"It's better a time than any," he answered, his magical eye swirling over to her direction. "Much better than you aiming to extend her waiting."

She visibly huffed at the offhand comment. "The poor girl looks like she hasn't eaten in days, of course I want her to get her energy up before you bombard her with all the information. The last thing we need is her fainting over her food."

"If you'd actually been keeping as much of an eye on her as you appear to be doing you'd have noticed she can't stomach much of anything right now. She wants answers."

Their interaction was like a fast paced tennis match, both equally matched in their verbal responses, the intensity of their hits just as winding. The urge to slink down into my seat was pulling, one which took great strength to ignore. My eyes fell to the brown mush, guilt suddenly filling me for not appreciating the dinner.

"This is an Order matter," Mrs Weasley stated firmly, standing with her hands planted on the table, as either a gesture to stabilise herself from jumping up too quickly or to stop from grabbing her wand, I didn't know. "Let the kids finish off their food before we get to business."

Apparently the thought of being left out of my business was too much of a task for Fred.

"I'm not a kid," he exclaimed, "And I'm not leaving until I know what's happened either. What's this about?"

In an act of unity George too crossed his arms over his chest and sat up that little bit straighter, determined not to back down. I had to hand it to those boys, maintaining eye contact in defiance of their mother _with_ their mother was something to admire.

Strengthening their argument, the twin added, "She's my girlfriend. I had to leave her without a word and I'm not about to leave her now."

My lips tugged down at the corners as I turned to face Fred, the new piece of information sparking my curiosity. So he hadn't left me uninformed purposely. He _did _care. The knowledge warmed me from the inside, easing some of the tension from my body.

Everyone had stopped eating. I would have fidgeted would it not have threatened to snap the curious eyes that were on the fiery Weasleys to me.

With as much stealth as I could muster, I snuck my hand over to Fred's leg and squeezed, watching his posture soften minutely. A wild temper was easily mollified through a simple touch when it came to the twins.

"He's right, Molly, they're of age. And Ella is important to them – to us. It's only right."

The three-way glaring contest was broken by a new voice. The man sat at the opposite end of the table to Mrs Weasley. I had noticed his presence upon my entering the room after changing into something more appropriate than a towel (which consists of just about anything other than a pillow case) but keeping my head down had deflected his attempts in engaging a conversation. If everything the twins had told me was true, Mr Weasley was sure to have dug into my mind on all things muggle at the first moment of eye contact.

Now, the eye contact was minimal. He sent me a quick wink through his glasses before returning his gaze to his wife. If ever there was a picture for a perfectly contrasting couple it would be Molly and Arthur Weasley. Their love and honesty was obvious to everyone, it was simply their approach that differed.

"They can know," Moody spoke up, successfully trumping the opposing argument. "Ella will tell them anyway."

"Fine – fine!" Mrs Weasley threw her arms up before pointing them at the three youngest. "But you are to go straight to your rooms. This is none of your concern."

Almost immediately Ron fired up.

"Tell us about Harry then! You're hiding something to do with him – he concerns us."

In spite of her obvious apprehension at defying the Weasley matriarch, Hermione sat rigid and nodded alongside Ron.

"Absolutely _not!_ You don't have the excuse of being of age like your brothers. Now off to bed!"

The order was not respected peacefully, as Ron grumbled as he stomped out of the kitchen and all the way up the stairs while Ginny purposely kicked against the chairs. Hermione, the ever dutiful adolescent, followed quietly. The trudging of footsteps could be heard until the slamming of a door, leaving the house in a tense silence. Now that the focus was to be on me, I kept my gaze away from the adults in the room. Even more – I didn't even dare look at Fred, removing my hand to my lap.

"Always a flair for dramatics, that little Weasley," said Sirius, chuckling. "Kind of brattish."

"Now, now, Sirius, we all can relate to having experienced temper tantrums from someone before…wild pups especially have a short fuse," quipped Remus.

The man waved the comment off, taking his goblet in hand and draining his drink. "It's the big dogs you have to watch out for – the wild ones hiding behind a façade of quiet."

"Are you two quite done?" Mrs Weasley snapped. Waving her wand, the dishes left by the younger Gryffindors levitated up into the air and zoomed out of the dining room into what I presumed was the kitchen.

"Gotta love a good pun, Molly. And it always works to clear the air."

"Not when it sounds like a bunch of gibberish to those who don't have a clue," she muttered to Sirius before focusing on Moody. "You know the most, go on then. Let's get it over with."

Licking the spoon clean, Moody dropped it, sitting up straighter and zeroed his eyes on me. His posture, the slightly hunched back over interlocked fingers resting before him reminded me of an interrogation, the ones shown in dramatic soap operas. If Moody was playing Bad Cop I could only guess who would take on the role of Good Cop. From the looks of it Mr Weasley was at the top of the list, although it didn't seem as if he'd be getting much say in the matters to come.

Before Moody could begin, a waft of air blew in my ear from the side alongside whispered words from Fred.

"Sirius is an animagus – unregistered, so don't go blabbing it around, missy."

"Yeah, we all know what a big mouth you have, Ella," George added, having to lean forward to see me from around Fred.

"Oh, and Remus is a werewolf, but you don't have to worry about him. I'm sure you've read all sorts of stuff about them but that's all stereotypical bullshit."

Apparently, their words were not as quiet as they had thought, as Mrs Weasley's exclamation of, "_Boys!_" had them grinning innocently and sitting up straight, rosy cheeked in anything but a cherubic expression. Across the table, Remus was watching me, having heard the twins, most likely ascertaining my reaction. I attempted to smile, sending a physical reassurance that I was not worried, not that the information settled in my frenzied mind anyway. I found my facial muscles heavy on my face, failing to cooperate, and I internally grimaced at how it probably appeared.

"Any ideas on what's been happening down your end?" Moody asked at first, once again taking on the responsibility to silence whatever the Weasleys would come out with, then shook his head and waved his question off. "Never mind that, I don't think anyone here has time or patience for assumptions. Moving on, Dumbledore hasn't seen you since our last visit so you've been clueless and confused, I get that. Tonks and some other Order members have been taking turns guarding your house, you don't need to know who, but after what's happened tonight, Dumbledore has agreed to reveal why."

"…why?" I prompted, holding my breath when he didn't continue in what I could only guess was for dramatic effect seeing as his eyes never left me. Warmth engulfed the hand resting on my lap.

"You're being watched. Have been for quite some time now. Even before this year, if you believe it or not. Only, they're getting desperate and have been letting their guard down more. At least, that's what we initially believed."

"Who?" It was George who asked when I failed to open my mouth. Simply breathing was difficult let alone forming actual words to create a coherent sentence. Fred squeezed my hand and I found myself gripping tighter.

Moody's eyes never wavered. "Thorfinn Rowle. A Death Eater."

"What the _fuck!_" came Fred's outburst, no longer my pillar of strength, rather an explosive powder keg that had only just been lit.

"Fred!"

"She's been living alone with a bloody Death Eater stalking her. Why didn't anyone tell me? How long has this been going on for, exactly? Merlin…"

"Why's there a Death Eater watching her anyway?" George frowned, controlling his anger that little bit more than his twin.

As charming as Fred's protectiveness was, I could not understand his anger. I was more confused, knowing my father and his affiliations and his intentions on wanting me back – for what reason, I did not know – but the name rang no bells. Others would have done, such as Dolohov, Malfoy, the Carrows, and even Gibbon. Vague physical features, but still something. There was no face to go with Rowle. I wondered for a moment whether it was indeed the command of Yaxley to have this person follow me. Perhaps it was the work of some other…but going down that route had me on the verge of a bigger headache, and it was hardly likely.

"We don't know that yet," Moody continued. "Our undercover is busy handling with the information regarding You-Know-Who. Information regarding him is of the utmost importance."

"What about Dumbledore?" Fred asked, cooling slightly. I shook his hand off mine but he didn't seem to notice. Either that, or he was too engrossed in what Moody had to say.

"Dumbledore is busy doing everything under the sun. He's done as much as he can for now. He has his priorities, and unfortunately, Ella, the wizarding world comes slightly above you."

A shaky smile formed on my lips in understanding. I couldn't fault Dumbledore – as Moody said, he had done what he could. Finding out which exact Death Eater was outside my house was a relief, knowing that the thing in the corner of my eye was not my mind playing tricks on me. I wasn't going crazy. And yet, finding out that it wasn't my mind projecting dancing shadows wasn't that very consoling. There was someone outside my home, following me to and from work, watching my every move. It was a huge invasion of privacy and had me feeling…dirty. Add to that the possibility that he was a danger to me, proven by the fact that he had entered my house tonight. As much as I didn't want to think of the varying possibilities of what he was going to do, a list already printed itself in my mind. None of them were nice, the word wasn't even factored in a Death Eater's vocabulary.

Dumbledore and Moody had visited me that day I went to Mrs Figg's. He had mentioned putting protective charms around my house, did that mean nothing if the man just walked inside? Were they strong enough? I hadn't doubted it before, and I shouldn't have now, not when I took into account the amount of people who trusted Dumbledore's magical capabilities. He was the strongest wizard of the time.

So why was a lowly Death Eater able to step over the threshold?

Resting my elbows on the wooden table I began rubbing my temples with the tips of my fingers in circular motions, hoping to ease the tension building.

"I don't get this," I groaned. "What happened to those protective spells you and Dumbledore used? Why didn't they work? That man just walked in when I was in the shower. I doubt he had a key unless he stole it off of Zoe. But that doesn't sound right."

"You're right, he didn't use a key. The spell we used was a simple one. No, not the _Alohamora _type simple, but one in which a smart person would be safe while being able to see what was happening for themselves."

"What's that supposed to mean? I'm not stupid."

"Could have fooled me," he snorted. I grit my teeth from cursing. "The spell requires the person inside to permit the other to come in. Dumbledore deemed it suitable for your case because he thought you'd be smart enough to catch on to what was happening and maybe even question the baboon. Rowle isn't exactly the smartest Death Eater – possibly one of the weakest in league so far which was why he was sent to watch over you. We didn't think he had any orders to confront you. He's been keeping his distance all this time. Lucky Tonks was there and knocked him out. If it was the other guard…"

"Wait…'a_ll this time'? _How long have you guys known Rowle's been at my house?"

"Only this summer, that's for sure."

"But you mentioned years before…" I trailed off, thinking back on the information. Perhaps I'd heard him wrong.

"When we were going around your property we found traces of residual magic. Faint bits here and there, mainly from apparation. From what we could tell, it wasn't Rowle, he tended to apparate away from your house. Even so, it wasn't detected from his wand."

"How would you know something like that? The type of magic from certain wands?" I asked, sitting back in my chair when my fingers did nothing to soothe my headache.

"Ollivander is always up for helping Dumbledore, he's the wand-maker. Sorry, forgot you have no reason to know him."

"No, I do, vaguely." There was no reason for my interruption. It was true, I could vaguely recall the name from stories told in my early childhood, before my being labelled a squib. The others in the room came to my attention, so I surmised it was a subconscious attempt to conform, to not sound so bloody stupid in front of wizards and witches and level myself to them.

Ignoring my input, Moody carried on. "He offered some information which was how we came to our conclusion. At first, Ollivander was guarded about letting on who it was that had apparated to and from your garden, but with some gentle prodding from Dumbledore he coughed up."

"Do I want to know?"

"Of course you do," Fred interjected sharply. "What kind of a question is that?"

I turned my attention to him. "It was years ago, and who's to say it wasn't Bill? I know he used the Floo most times, but that's not to say he didn't apparate from time to time. And the timing seems consistent."

"Listen to yourself! You had a bat shit crazy Death Eater watching you from your property, and it's possible there've been more, and you _don't _want to know who? Are you mad?" Fred exclaimed, once again grabbing onto my arms to stare me down.

"No," I shook my head.

"Why not?" Fred demanded.

"Get off me."

"Ella…"

"Oh, leave off already, will you?"

Like a slingshot retracting Fred fell back into his own chair once again, his face turned away. I sighed.

"Anything else I should know?" I asked Moody, hoping he would put a full stop to this night so I could crawl into bed.

"Have you ever heard of Rowle before?"

Once again I wracked my brain for anything on the Death Eater only to hit the blank wall that separated my early childhood from my earliest memories. I was too tired to do the simple task of matching a face to the name. "No. Never. Is he a new Death Eater?"

"He fought in the first war but isn't known for having actively searched for Voldemort, not that we know of anyway. Has a thing for fire."

"What – like a pyromaniac?"

"Ay," Moody nodded, staring down into the tablecloth as if drowning in a pensieve of a distant memory. I could almost see the burning embers in his real eye. "Wild and reckless, but reigns himself in enough to obey orders."

This didn't add up. He was reckless and yet obeyed orders, most likely only to Voldemort. But what reason would he have to have Rowle watch me? No, that couldn't be right. And how did Yaxley fit in to all of this? Surely he could not order around Thorfinn. Uh! Information overload. Headache, headache! My hands strayed to my forehead again. Rubbing it didn't help. Shutting my eyes and covering them with one hand alleviated the harsh light burning my eyes somewhat.

"This…Rowle bloke. Who the hell _is _he?!" I groaned quietly, growing frustrated with every passing second. "Why did he deviate from his routine and try to come inside today?"

"We can't be sure, not unless he had him for interrogation. But now that you're no longer at your house, he won't be either. He's stupid, but it won't take him too long to find an empty house, especially now that he's been given consent to go inside."

"You should have told me about the bloody spell," I grumbled unconsciously. Opening my eyes, I blinked away the blurs until Moody's lumpy form came into focus. "I still don't understand. Anything."

Moody stayed still and silent, and it was Mr Weasley who spoke up next. "You've gotten what you wanted, the knowledge on what happened tonight. Everyone here is now up to date, and none the clearer as to your involvement in…anything. I say we all get some sleep now and revisit this topic at a later date, when we do know more. Hopefully, by then Dumbledore will have his plate organised a bit so he can shed some light." He clapped his hands together. "But let's not wait anxiously."

"Right," Mrs Weasley barked, standing up. "We've all had an enlightening evening. Goodnight everyone! Boys – you're to be up nice and early in the morning. Ella, I'll show you to your room. And let's see if we can find you some proper pyjamas, you're drowning in Fred's old clothes."

The twins apparated away before listening to their mother addressing them. I tried not to dwell on the tension and followed Mrs Weasley through the shadowed hallways and up the stairs to the third floor.

"I'm afraid the girls have no space left for you to share with them so you get a room to yourself. Now, it's not the cosiest place in the world but you'll have to make do – we all do. Arthur and I sleep on this floor as well, and Fred and George's room is down the hall past our room. I'm sure you'll respect privacy and decency. You're a good girl."

I could barely hear Mrs Weasley ramble on as she escorted me to my room, the four walls that would be my new abode for God knows how long. Upon entering the room I saw darkness, and with the aid of _lumos_ green walls.

As soon as the door was shut behind Mrs Weasley I sighed for seemingly the thousandth time, knowing I wouldn't get a decent sleep from the friction between Fred. I heard her footsteps going back down the stairs, presumably to clear the lingering mess, and then tiptoed out of the room and rushed across the landing into the room I identified as the twins', hoping we could kiss and make up and go back to normal. And sleep.

* * *

Another author's note! Hello! What a surprise. I was going to make this chapter longer and include the reconciliation with Fred but I didn't want this chapter getting too long and to include that bit I'd had to have written it first.

PS. Should I stick to one author's note at the top? At the bottom? Both? Neither? I'd love to know what you guys prefer.


	36. Explosive

36\. Explosive

* * *

Careful whispers hushed as the door clicked shut behind me. The room was dark but for a slight illumination from a candle. In my rush to enter away from the senses of Molly Weasley – because she didn't have to see something to _know_ – the thought of changing into pyjamas escaped me, but seeing the twins already dressed for the night had me mentally sigh in relief. It was not as if I had never seen either Weasley in anything less than full coverage before, rather the awkwardness adding to the already accumulating tension that felt like a choking fist was best avoided.

George was the first to notice and nodded in greeting, breaking off halfway through a sentence. Fred followed his gaze.

"I need to take a piss," was all George said before striding out the room, clapping me on the back on his way out.

The flickering of the small flame could be heard in the silent room as I shuffled, crossing my arms over my chest as a shiver ran up my spine from the chill of my lightly dripping hair and damp t-shirt. I could feel his eyes watching me as I meekly avoided his. Their room was obviously lived in, with drafts of advertisements and product samples littered all over. It seemed the boys wasted no time in getting their business started.

"What?" Fred huffed, snapping my attention to him.

"What what?"

"Stop playing around, you're not that stupid."

Instantly my eyes narrowed and lip curled in a sneer. That was the second time tonight I had been regarded as stupid. It was pissing me off. Yet I forced myself to breathe and wait until the smog in my head had cleared before I spoke. He may have been ready for an argument, hundreds of rebuttals and quips in his head, but I was not about to fall into the trap. He would get his frustration out in some other way.

"Are you done being a bratty child and ready to listen?" I asked with a bit more bite than I cared to admit. Calm. I was calm. I didn't wait for him to snap back. "I'm sorry."

He quirked an eyebrow and crossed his arms, waiting.

"I shouldn't have been disregarding you down there, especially not in front of everyone. That was wrong of me. I'm sorry," I apologised softly, allowing a hint of a smile to grace my features in hopes Fred would respond accordingly. And he did, his sharp eyes and gritted teeth relaxing.

"Don't you want to know?" His voice was quiet.

I stepped closer. "Fred…" Words escaped me, the false assurances I wanted to bestow so he wouldn't fuss. I did not want to be seen as weak. A stinging burn behind my eyes told me otherwise. I was not strong, so why should I pretend? I couldn't even do that, lie so simply. I was pathetic. "I'm scared."

Brows creased, he enveloped me in his arms loosely, offering what support he could. It was enough to open the floodgates.

"I was being watched by some creepy Death Eater. He knows my home. And Dumbledore…I trusted him. I trusted him to keep me safe because you and George weren't there and he still left me vulnerable without telling me and I – I feel so…so dirty. What would he have done? What did he plan on doing? What the hell could I have possibly done against a wizard? I was in the shower! He'd never knocked on the door before. Why was tonight any different?"

It was then that I choked on the air I needed more of, shutting my eyes and melting into his strong chest, large hands rubbing my back and crushing our bodies together. I had to know that I was not alone any longer. That he was _here_ and I was _here_ and we were together and I had no reason to be scared because this house was safe and full of good magic that encompassed my body like sweet petrichor. And yet, the feeling of being absolutely weak and defenceless, a fly caught in a spider's web remained, burning beneath my skin. The worst itch that could not be remedied by furious fingers.

Fred's murmurs of peace filled my ears. I gripped onto his shirt tighter, almost identical to the one I was drowning under. Where it had felt strangling earlier, all I felt now was the aged softness. The feeling of being held in his arms was like the warmest golden glow. If I closed my eyes I could almost believe that everything was fine. No evil Death Eaters. No creepy muggles. No riddles. No lies. No bullshit.

"Stay with me," he whispered.

"Your mum…"

"Don't worry about her," he interrupted, chapped lips grazing my cheek. He licked them dry, the moisture settling on my skin. "We have ways of distracting her. She won't know a thing. Stay."

"But George?"

"He'll take your room. It'll be fine. I'm not leaving you alone tonight."

His words were followed by a squeeze, and I found myself being pulled to a bed.

"Fred, I'm not sure –"

"Ella." He parted from the embrace and held me by the shoulders. A smirk graced his lips, the wickedly devious tilt of his upper lip that bared his teeth like a fox, and then his body was against mine, pushing and pushing until I fell back onto the mattress. The air rushed out of my lungs from the pressure of his weight. His nose nudged mine. "Shut up. You're staying."

"Fred. Get off me, you lump," I wheezed.

"Yes, ma'am," he chuckled, resting his hands on either side of my head and lifting his torso, securing me comfortably between his legs.

"I meant completely. I'm tired," I managed to giggle.

"But I quite fancy it up here. Oi, you read stuff, I'm guessing one of those soppy love stories would go something like this. _Hem hem._ _Blue, lust filled eyes gazed down at the angel within his arms_ –"

"Oh dear God," I rolled my eyes.

"– _shadows from the orange candle flickering across her rosy skin. Lidded eyes exuding a deep passion that burned into his soul, branding him to the end of time and forever after that, a prisoner to her –_"

"Why me?"

"– _he was captivated. From the…reddish brown…strands of hair like a fiery halo, to pink parted lips begging for its partner to dance with in the art of heavy snogging, and heaving breasts stealing the air from the dank room. Her soul called for him, his body aching in response to her song, hips rolling to relieve –_"

"That's enough!" I exclaimed, successfully pushing him off. The effect his words had on me was magical, the cloud of lethargy washing away as I found myself mimicking, well, myself, in his narrative. I drunk in air to calm my speeding heart. Damn that Weasley. "What kind of shit do you read?"

"I got it from one of Hermione's we found lying around the other day. Quite a fascinating read in fact."

He left it at that, crawling up the bed where he lay down, hands behind his head and ankles crossed. His silence hid answers, and as I continued to watch him, I noticed the twitching of his lips that threatened to release laughter.

"…what did you twats do?" I questioned.

He chuckled. "Let's just say Hermione will never leave a transfigured book with us around again."

"You Weasleys are merciless," I said, shaking my head and sliding up the bed, taking my place beside him. Almost instinctively his arm curled around my shoulders, pulling me into his body heat.

"Says the ever hormonal and super violent bitch," he hummed with a pinch to my ribs, receiving a slap on the chest in retaliation.

"Dick. Let me sleep."

Lips grazed my hair and pressed a kiss as he purred, "Oh, I love it when you talk dirty to me."

A comfortable silence enveloped us as we held onto one another, my head on his shoulder, hand resting on his chest; his arm around my shoulder and one hand on my hip as our legs lay tangled. The sweetness of sleep touched my senses, a slumber I would rest through without any disturbances. The burn beneath my skin bubbling as it lay dormant.

"I mean, she's the smartest witch her age for a reason, changing the cover. Who would ever want to read about grammar?"

"Why would you?" I countered.

"The better to sweet talk you, doll."

Lifting my head slightly, I looked down at him with furrowed brows. "_Doll?_"

"I see it's working already," he said, fingers stroking my hair away from my face. "Look at you, you're speechless."

"Oh, sod off. Think you're so suave and smooth," I said, plopping back down and nestling my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent that was wholly Fred.

"I'm the ultimate package. You should feel blessed."

Breathing out giggles I found I was too tired to bring his ego down a few notches. There was always tomorrow.

"Tomorrow we'll talk."

* * *

The steps groaned under my feet. I tiptoed on the edges, wincing at every creak and squeal of the ancient wood. Thankfully, the residents remained asleep, blissfully unaware at the visitor roaming the halls with the climbing of the sun. It was just as dark as it was at night, I noticed, the humid heat drying my throat. It was on odd combination, the heat outside seeping in through the old, damp walls, accompanied by the chilly draught that felt as if it lived within the walls of the house. Whatever the weather, I would need to find some more appropriate clothes soon.

Water boiling could be heard as I descended the stairs to the kitchen, and I paused, thinking perhaps Molly sat waiting for me, knowing from her sixth sense as a mother that I had defied her one rule. I did not want to imagine what she would say with her piercing glare. She was scary enough when her anger was directed elsewhere. But then a definitely masculine cough erupted and I let out the breath I was holding.

"Morning," George greeted, his voice gruff and scratchy.

"Hey," I said with a smile. "Bad night?"

"Your room's stuffy," was all he said, beginning to make his tea when my hand stopped his and took over.

"I'll do it, you go and sit down." He complied without complaint, patting me on the head. "I'm sorry you had such a horrid night."

George waved the comment off. "S'not your fault. I would've been fine if the bloody elf didn't shut the window and draw the curtains sometime during the night. I mean, what the hell was it even doing there in the middle of the night? Fucking pervert."

"What elf?"

"Kreacher," he answered, accepting the mug I offered to him before starting on my own. "I swear that elf has it in for us all. Never bothered us in our sleep before though."

"I didn't know there was an elf here." As soon as the words left my mouth I remembered the dismembered heads displayed along one of the walls. Who on earth would put them there? And why were they not removed?

"He knew about you."

I frowned, stirring my tea one final time before removing the tea bag and taking a seat opposite him. "How?"

"Mumbling about a squib. I thought I was dreaming at first, more like a nightmare really if Kreacher's involved, but it sounded like he thought you were in the room. Merlin's shit this tea is wonderful. Oh, my head."

"Why would he have wanted to bother me?" I watched as George rubbed at his forehead, eyes closed as if praying for his sickness to evaporate with the steam from his tea. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. And I've no clue. That elf is mad. Even Sirius says so."

"Hm."

We sipped at our tea, enjoying the quiet awakening of the world. George was the morning twin, ready to start the day as soon as possible. It helped him ease into the day, clearing his mind with the early morning air. Fred was the opposite. Trying to get him to wake up at a decent hour was near impossible, especially after a late night. He worked best when in a rush, using up all his energy in sharp bursts otherwise his feet would drag during the long, drawn out moments. The early bird and the night owl. I never quite understood how they both managed to be similar and yet so different, but it was suited them so perfectly. Twins were not a clone of the same person, but two halves of a soul, it seemed in the way of George and Fred.

In a way, I had always expected them to be alike before even knowing Fred. It was hard to say why I had assumed it, possibly in the way George spoke of his home life and how everything he did was with Fred. There was rarely a story without him, speaking of a bond closer than simple brotherhood. I had been envious of their relationship as a child, and in a way I still was. But more than that I was thankful. So thankful to have been immersed into their lives.

It was easy to forget everything wrong in the world in the grey kitchen with George. Almost as if we were children again.

"So," George drawled in his clogged voice. "Did you guys talk last night?"

"Kind of," I answered, swirling the dregs of tea in the mug. I was purposely avoiding his gaze and he knew it.

"Expand upon that."

"It's stupid," I said, knowing that nothing I said could have deterred George, so continued. "I told him how I felt about it all. That I'm frightened because I have no idea what's going on and the people who do know don't seem to think it's such a bother. Because it's so normal for Death Eaters to watch over me for years and then suddenly come knocking on my door!"

"He took it well I'm guessing."

I couldn't help but scoff. "I was on the verge of tears, he'd do anything to avoid having to deal with that."

"I can't even begin to imagine how you're feeling," he sighed. "Some shit we're all in."

"Do you think it's all linked?" I asked, but the thought of hearing someone else's honest opinion terrified me somewhat.

"What is?"

"Voldemort returning and Rowle?"

Seconds passed as George stared at the table, face creased in thought. Hoping he was just holding off more coughs, I was left disappointed when he leaned back in his chair and spoke. "Could be. I hate to even think that though. I mean, I don't see why it should be. But I don't know much at all. Mum's gotten wind of us eavesdropping and is trying everything under the sun to stop us from listening in on the Order meetings."

"How did you guys eavesdrop?"

Hands rummaging in his stripy dressing robe pockets, he pulled out a flesh coloured object between his index finger and thumb. "I present to you the Extendable Ear."

Picking it out of his fingers, I inspected the fleshy object, noting how it looked exactly like a perfect replica of an ear.

"An Extendable Ear? What does it do?" I asked, unravelling the string attached.

Before I knew it George had plucked the ear out of my hand and ran around the corner, shutting the door after himself. He yelled a quick, "Put the string in your ear," and once that was achieved I could hear him drop the ear and walk even further away, yet his voice remained so that it sounded as if he was right beside me.

He kept talking as he returned with an expectant grin on his face, the volume of is speech only slightly wavering. "So? What d'ya think?"

"It's amazing. And you've been listening to Order meetings with this without your mum knowing?"

"Ah," he started, taking the string and rolling it around the ear again. "She found out alright – she's mum. Went berserk, destroying most of them. We managed to salvage a few, fix up some damaged ones. It really took as back a bit though, but we've been at it most nights and have made up enough that sets us up again."

"I'm not surprised, your mum seems really stressed," I acknowledged sympathetically, thinking back to how friendly and sweet she had seemed in Hogwarts compared to her harried appearance last night.

"She is. Fred's the one who went off on her, but he felt bad and gave her a massage after to make up for it," George said, chuckling and pocketing the Extendable Ear.

"Aw, that was sweet of him," I smiled, picturing the scene in my head as pride flooded through me.

"Pfft, whatever. I'm sure he only did it to get an extra piece of dessert."

I laughed, knowing that probably was the reason why Fred was so willing to please his mother.

"So, other than inventing and being the brilliant evil geniuses you are, what else do you do?"

George waved off the comment coyly and batted his eyes. "Mum seems to think we're absolutely useless and spend all our time sitting on our arses so she has us cleaning."

"This dump?" I eyed the damp on the walls and the dust with disgust. "It looks like you'll need to burn this place to get it anywhere close to being clean."

He peered around the kitchen, nodding thoughtfully as if actually contemplating where best to start the fire. I found myself laughing once again, staring at George.

"I've missed you," I said, catching his attention.

He smiled. "Okay? You do know I've been here this whole time, right?"

"No shit," I rolled my eyes. "It's just…been different. I mean, before it was just us, now I'm with Fred and it just feels like we're not as close as before."

"We're still best mates, stop your worrying. I'm a big boy and don't need my little Smelly Ellie constantly hanging around and ruining my reputation."

"You don't need me to ruin your reputation when you do it so well all by yourself."

Just then a barrage of footsteps were heard stomping down the stairs, various voices talking over each other and one very distinct voice singing above them all. The door was flung open and in swanned Sirius, arms elevated in the air as his mouth hung open, pouring out an elongated, deep note. Ginny ducked under his arm as she entered the kitchen, followed by Hermione, both giggling at the older man's shenanigans. Ron came in after them, laughing too.

Running steps could be heard before a tall figure collided into Sirius, almost pushing him to the ground as he swung off the man's back, black hair wildly swinging in the headlock. His singing stopped, replaced by aggressive growls from both men. The only noise louder was Molly's shrieking at them to act their ages. Although her voice could be heard in every crevice of the house, the wrestling men ignored her, continuing their antics to Ginny and George's goading. Her prying hands were futile in separating the men. Eventually, she whipped out her wand, and with an arching swish, both men were flung apart. Another wave and they were hung in the air from their ankles, breathless.

"How many times?!" Molly screamed, charging into the kitchen as she readied dishes and ingredients brilliantly. "Why is it always you two? Every morning! You'd have thought you both were raised by trolls."

"It's not every morning, Molls," Sirius drawled. Fred kicked him in the shin from their upended positions.

"It might as well be with the ruckus you seem to think is appropriate," she barked back, cracking several eggs into a frying pan and bacon in another. "Oh, Ginny, mind setting out the plates please. And Ron, get the glasses – George! Wash that mug and ready the tea. Good morning Hermione, Ella."

"Morning," we chorused, watching the bustling Weasleys shoving each other around the kitchen.

"Is there anything I can do to help, Molly?" Hermione asked.

"Ginny, put that wand away now – oh, no Hermione dear, you just sit down, love."

"Mum, my head feels funny," Fred said, fingers pinched around Sirius's ear while the older man's elbow dug into Fred's stomach.

"Arthur! Remus!" Molly yelled, ignoring her son. "Breakfast!"

George, on his way to gather more mugs, passed his twin and Sirius casually, ducking under their waving arms.

"Oi, you two sort your shit out," George shouted in passing, stabilising Sirius's leg with his hand, only to be met with more fidgeting.

"No you don't! Ganging up on me is illegal. This is my house."

"Alright, keep your fur on mate, I'm just trying to keep my head on around you two grindylows," George chuckled. The brief shared glance between him and his twin was missed by Sirius. I smirked, resting my chin in hand as I watched Sirius's eyes widen, kicking his leg everywhere as something red and white latched onto him.

Arthur and Remus entered the room as Sirius let out a scream that was surprisingly high pitched for a man with his image and usual masculine voice. Molly whipped around and the two men in the air plummeted to the ground, rattling the ground and the table. I couldn't hold it in any longer and burst out laughing, failing to smother it with my hands as Molly's wild eyes flew to me.

"Honestly, you two. _Shut up and sit down!_"

Breakfast moved on swiftly after that and with much more order. All the children were made to sit down as Molly took over and served the food promptly. Fred took his seat beside me, planting a big kiss on my cheek. Sirius plucked the object from his leg, holding it up for all to see as he set a bemused glare on George.

"Nasty Gnashers for you, mate," George winked.

Molly charmed the food to fly onto the table and took her seat on one end after giving Arthur a hasty kiss. Before Fred could grab my plate I scooped some scrambled eggs onto it along with a slice of toast and some fried mushrooms.

"Nice one," Sirius inspected the gag teeth in his hand. "Needs a bit more bite to it though."

The twins arched their brows, obviously thinking back to his girlish shrieking. "Seriously?"

"Am I ever anything but?"

I snorted, immediately catching the attention of the smirking Sirius.

"Something funny, little lady?"

Not knowing whether to respond, or how, I simply shook my head as the twins engaged in using their wands under the dining table.

I soon found out that George was not lying when he said that Molly attempted to squeeze every ounce of energy from us whenever she saw us sitting like ducks. Straight after breakfast, once we had all cleared the table we were sorted into pairs or groups, given a designated area and chore and made to clean.

Lined up against the wall like an identity parade, Molly pointed out who would be working with each other. Seemingly not trusting Fred and I together, Molly put me with George, Fred with Hermione, and Ron with Ginny. After barking out the rooms and rules, and throwing in a threat or two while eyeing the twins, we were left to the impossible task. And impossible it was, as no matter how long we scrubbed and polished, the grime seemed to have fused with every object like a second skin. Nothing shone brighter or lighter, yet when Molly scrutinised our works she always nodded in approval and urged us to ready for lunch.

The routine continued after lunch straight to dinner. It repeated every day, and never was I paired with Fred. Being eyed by Molly Weasley always left me feeling awkward. George had caught on to the pattern after the very first day, and instead of waiting for his mum to separate us, shoved me out of the room and pulled me to our next room.

Fred and I still managed to spend time together. At meals he always made sure to sit beside me, even if both seats were already taken he would forcibly remove one person. After dinner I would sometimes sit in their room as they tinkered with their gadgets and forms. During that time he was too focussed on his work to really engage in any conversation but it was nice just to be in their company. They exuded a carefree and easy aura that I soaked in like a greedy sponge, wanting every bit of their enthusiasm and positivity available.

One night the twins were mindlessly throwing around funny names for new products, most of which I ignored as I attempted to sort through the papers on their desk. Prototypes of advertisements and order forms took up much of the space with few rolls of untouched homework hidden underneath.

A particularly crumpled sheet caught my attention, prominent squared lines indicating to how much it had been folded. It wasn't the customary parchment found amongst the Weasleys, but a lined piece of notebook paper. Peeking over my shoulder to make sure they were still occupied, I let my curiosity win over me. Unfolding the paper I noticed it was a letter, dated only two weeks ago. Shame had crept up on me. Why was I looking at his personal belongings? It was wrong, an invasion of privacy, completely disrespectful.

And then Angelina's name screamed out from the bottom of the letter and my chest tightened. It was nothing, I reassured myself, just a letter from a friend enquiring about whether he was alright. She was worried, just like I had been. It wasn't normal for either Weasley to be quiet for such a length of time. My fingers flipped over the paper and my heart sank further as I saw Fred's scrawled reply and another quick note from Angelina responding beneath that.

I didn't read it. I couldn't. It was innocent, I was sure of it. I was just being the stupid, annoying, possessive girlfriend interfering between two friends. I did not want to be that girl. The letter was folded back and returned at the bottom of the pile.

I never slept with Fred after the first night. No matter how much he badgered me I refused to give in, and he soon stopped asking, stopped caring.

Harry arrived in no time, and with him came a tornado of teenage angst I had never encountered before. I justified his behaviour with never having known someone who had gone through what he had, surviving against an evil wizard and being haunted by him every single day of his miserable life.

It was a relief to see someone else angry at Dumbledore, as all of the Weasleys, Hermione and even Sirius seemed hesitant to utter a bad word against him. I could relate to Harry in the annoyance of being held back from knowledge that included me. Yes, Dumbledore was a brilliant wizard, and a good one, but why all the secrecy? Who did it benefit?

Once Harry was settled in he was incorporated into the cleaning regime, and thus Mrs Weasley's groupings changed. Harry was never left alone with Ron or Hermione, something that appeared to be a conscious decision on Molly's behalf, always pairing him with either Ginny or Fred. Apparently having another child under watch did not distract her from paying attention to her mischievous son and his squib girlfriend.

The dining table grew every day with new visitors opting to share Molly's meals. Fred was pushed up against my left side as Hermione sat to my right, politely ignoring me and glaring her frustration out on Fred. We were taking a lunch break from cleaning the downstairs hallways and would be moving upstairs to the bathrooms. I tried not thinking about it, wanting to keep what little of my lunch I had in my stomach.

Fred was proving to be a wonderful distraction, stealing the small dices of chicken from my plate and drinking from my glass. Arthur was home for lunch as well, and was notifying us of something or other to do with some of the rooms in Grimmauld Place. I didn't hear a word of it, instead trying to punch Fred's leg away as it climbed over mine.

As soon as lunch was cleared I was whisked up the stairs. Following us was George, taking the stairs two at a time to catch up.

"You didn't let me grab the gloves," I complained once Fred pulled me into the library.

"Uh, wizard here, hello," he said, taking out his wand and summoning the gloves with _accio_.

"Right, sorry. Thanks." I took the proffered pair and pulled them onto my hands. "What was with the rush? You know your mum will be yelling your ears off soon, she isn't stupid."

"Yes, but we are going to have some fun in this hell hole even if it kills me," he smirked. "Which it probably will."

"I've told the others, they're up for it," George said as he entered.

"What's happening?"

"Just a little game of wizards and witches hide and seek," Fred answered.

"Basically ordinary hide and seek."

"But with a few added effects."

"If the seeker gets too close the hider can distract them with a simple and non-violent spell as they try to run for it."

"The spell the hider casts cannot immobilise the seeker."

"Or disarm them if they wish to retaliate."

"The person hiding can't be touched, though. Even a simple skim of the fingers and they're done for."

"You game?"

There were so many consequences, yet I didn't care. Living in Grimmauld Place under constant restraint and orders was strangling. I was drowning and needed a moment to breathe. I grinned at the twins, nodding.

"Great! Who's seeking?" Fred exclaimed, clapping his hands.

"Everyone's gone to hide already."

The twins each held out a fist, shook them three times and revealed a ball and single finger.

"Ha! I got the resurrection stone," George said.

"I still don't get how the stone beats the elder wand," Fred groaned, frowning down at his hand. "I could just burn it to dust."

"Whatever, sore loser. Come on, Ella, this arse cheats so we only have around ten seconds to hide."

"One…two…"

"Run!"

George was gone in the blink of an eye. Hearing that Fred was already at six I ran out of the room as quietly as I could.

Many of the doors were locked and so the first door that opened I entered. Only seconds later the floorboards outside creaked under Fred's weight. Inhaling sharply, I moved further back into the unfamiliar room, looking for a suitable hiding spot in case Fred were to come in. There wasn't much, and the only choice was the predictable wardrobe. On my way my leg bumped into a chest of drawers that was partially open. Cursing under my breath, I tried holding in my breath and jumped into the wardrobe.

There was a lack of air in the stuffy closet and only a few furry coats that were covered in dust that made my throat dry and eyes itch. Fred's steps were even more muffled from within but he didn't sound very close at all. Soon it grew absolutely silent with only my heartbeat and harsh breaths as company. The excitement of the game had my skin on edge, slowly dulling as time seemed to drag on with no change. Either this room was a really good hiding place or Fred was a terrible hunter. It would have been much more interesting if Harry were the one seeking, I joshed.

The humidity of being enclosed in the small space was getting to my head. I peeked out through the crack, ensuring no one else was in the room before stepping out. Almost immediately a chill crept over my body as if the window was left open in mid-winter. I wrapped my arms around myself, the sleeves of Hermione's t-shirt that she had lent me offering no relief.

A black cloud hovered over my eyes which no amount of blinking could clear. I couldn't see where it was coming from, and the more I rubbed at my eyes and moved around the room the darker and thicker it got until it completely shrouded my vision. All I could see was black, all I could feel and breathe. It was dark and clean. My heart hammered in my chest, no longer from exhilaration but pure panic.

"Fred," I called out, my voice pitifully quiet. I croaked out louder, "George. Fred."

There was no response. Tears burned at the back of my eyes as I tried to find the door, only to run into the wall. The collision had me falling on my back and I looked up to see the dirty ceiling in all its beautiful filth.

Sitting up I attempted to calm myself. It was the poor lighting in the room. That was all. I let the house and the terrible tales from the twins get to me. A noise from the corner of the room froze me. It wasn't a particularly scary sound. It came again, a small whimpering. There, crouched in the corner, was a plump girl.

Every instinct and cell told me to leave, escape from the foreign person in the room and call for someone. No matter how much I screamed at myself to move I stayed rooted to the spot, watching her heaving back. There was something about her that seemed…familiar.

"He-hello," I said cautiously, quietly. No response. I gulped. "Excuse me? Does anyone know you're here?"

She was muttering, but I couldn't make out what.

"Pardon?"

The crying stopped. Her body stilled. She turned her head to the side. And then…

"Fucking squib."

The girl stood up. She was older than what I had first assumed, probably around my age, maybe even slightly older. Her body was filled generously, fleshy and, well, fat. If I felt I couldn't move before I was trapped in cement now, forced to watch her approach me.

Watch _me_ approach me.

"_Baby_…"

The crooning voice came from the wardrobe I had hidden in moments earlier, and to my horror, a man emerged from within.

"What have I told you about foul language, hm?"

He stroked her chestnut hair – my hair – to one side, exposing her neck as he planted a soft kiss there. My stomach churned at the sight.

"It's for lowlifes. Unintelligent people," she answered robotically, black, empty eyes resting on me.

"Good girl," he praised. His wand pressed against her ribs as he sensually whispered _crucio_ into her ear. I watched in horror as she writhed and convulsed in pain, bowling over the man's arm wrapped around her waist to prevent her from toppling over.

_What the hell is this? Make it stop…_

He was smirking down at her, only moving his gaze to me to watch my reaction.

"Sh sh sh," he removed his wand, patting her head as she sucked in air. "There, much better. Now, remember to stay quiet. You don't want to disturb mummy now."

Our eyes connected. She was mouthing words but her trembling lips made it hard to distinguish what she was saying.

_Help…_

The man's hand slid down her torso, groping and pinching as it travelled down.

"Watch me."

_Your fault…_

He tilted her face up, showing off her throat as she gulped.

_Fred…please…_

Then his hand was hidden from view as a sob escaped both of me, tears running down my face.

A splash of colour from the corner of my eye had my head spinning to see the twins, gaping at the scene. Opening my mouth, I longed to cry out to them, ask them what on earth was going on and what kind of house this was. Their names on the tip of my tongue faltered when their faces broke out into grins and they laughed. They laughed until their eyes watered and they had to support each other. They laughed as they looked between the hideous version of me and the real me.

But if I was the real me who was that other one? Was I looking into the future? An alternate universe? Was I just hallucinating? That would make me insane. Was I mad? A consequence of being a squib in the wizarding world – surrounded by magic that my body rejected.

Desperate to get away from this nightmare I crawled back on my hands until I hit the wall. My hands shook too much to open the door on my first attempt. The deafening sniggers and catcalls filled my ears. She was still mumbling as the curse from the wand burned and boiled her innards. I didn't care. Fear overrode the guilt. I pushed with all my might and flew out into the corridor, suddenly free of the obscure fist that clenched my organs.

The everyday noises flooded through my senses, from the conversing people downstairs to Ginny vaguely yelling at Ron from somewhere above. I looked around the hallway, noting the familiarity of it all. Closing my eyes would only act as a blank slate to print the horrific scene on. I didn't know if keeping my eyes open would help either, not if I was hallucinating.

"You do know the aim of the game is to hide and not stand out in the open for me to find you," came Fred's teasing drawl.

"S-sorry," I said. From the corner of my eye I peeked into the room. It was empty.

"Where were you hiding?"

"What?"

"Where were you hiding?" he repeated. "I came through here as soon as I finished counting and you weren't here."

I nodded to the room. "In there."

Fred walked in, pointing to the wardrobe. He opened the door as I held in my breath.

"Spacious in here, ain't it?" he commented, sliding the coats back to see how far the wardrobe went.

"Who's seeking now?" I asked.

"Huh? Oh, Ron is."

"Come on, then, let's go," I urged, pulling on his arm to leave the room.

"Why don't we hide in here? If I didn't find you I highly doubt Ronald would," he smirked, standing firm and pulling me into him as he stepped back into the wardrobe. "I bet it will be _much_ more fun in here with me."

I was shaking my head at the first sight of the impish curve of his lip. "No, it's too hot in there."

A loud bang sounded followed by Molly Weasley yelling. Fred winced.

"I think she's realised we're taking a break."

It didn't take long for the Weasley matriarch to assemble all of us and get us cleaning, this time supervised. Ron still seemed to be peeved at Fred and Ginny. I wasn't entirely sure what had happened and though Hermione tried explaining I could not concentrate completely.

After dinner that night I stayed in the living room reading an old wizarding fairy-tale from the library. Mostly everyone had either gone home or gone to bed. The twins had run off straight after pudding to get to work on some more products. They needed to build up more stock if they were to sell them at Hogwarts, and if they were as popular amongst the students as they were with the family, Sirius and Remus, everything would be sold out in no time.

Arthur was washing up in the kitchen, allowing Molly to rest after the dinner rush with her knitting needles and yarn. She was sitting in the corner, the quiet tapping of the sticks soothing against the crackling of the fireplace.

The locks on the front door unlatched. Remus and Dumbledore came in.

"Oh, Dumbledore, how are you?" Molly asked.

"Very well, thank you, Molly," he answered quietly. "Ella."

"Hello, sir," I greeted and nodded to Remus.

"Just the person I was hoping to see. Harry in bed already?"

"Yes, do you want me to go and fetch him?" Molly inquired.

"No, no, it's quite alright. I believe it's best for him to not know I came here."

I frowned. "Why?"

He turned his sparkling blue eyes on me and sat down beside me, Remus standing just inside as he closed the door behind himself.

"I have something to discuss with you, Ella. Just you."

"…yes?"

Dumbledore hesitated, opening his mouth before asking Molly for some water. She jumped up onto her feet and scrambled down to the kitchen. It took seconds for her to come back, Arthur in tow with a tray of lemon water. She reclaimed her armchair, Mr Weasley perching himself on the armrest after greeting the men.

Taking a glass from the hovering tray I took a sip of the icy water.

"Do you remember, Ella, when I asked you about strange happenings back at your home?" he asked, peering into his glass.

"Yes," I replied. The dead pigeon. The mug shattering. Moody. It was hard to forget.

"And do you also recall my using Legilimency on you?"

I nodded.

"I believe I may have uncovered something highly crucial. I have not mentioned it before simply to gather all the information together, but I believe that now –"

"You're doing it again," I said.

"Pardon, Ella?"

"You're in my head," I retorted. "That look. You look at me like that when you're in my head."

"I am," he agreed. His voice was so calm it was infuriating.

"Why? What do you see?"

He stared at me for prolonged moments, and then, without breaking eye contact, said to the Weasleys: "I would advise you to be wary of the drawing room."

I didn't need to look at them to know they shared a confused glance. It was such an odd comment at the strangest of times, but that was Dumbledore.

"That day in Ottery St. Catchpole, when Alastor and I were setting up protection spells around your house. You didn't touch your mug."

"What?"

"You jumped up from your seat but you did not touch your mug. It was on the table. And yet, it crashed onto the floor."

I frowned, trying to think back, but the details were rushed and blurred. I must have knocked it over.

"There was a time before, as well. The glasses from your cabinet fell and broke on the floor. You couldn't reach, so how did they fall? And, of course, we cannot forget the birds. We traced back the magic while it was fresh and found who did it."

"You said it was Rowle," I murmured.

But he shook his head lightly. "No, my dear. It was Rowle who tried getting into your house."

"Then who…"

Dumbledore peered over his glasses. "It was you."

The condensation from the glass mixed with the sweat on my palm and it slipped. Remus must have foreseen my reaction, for he had his wand out in no time and levitated it before impact.

"_Me?_" I echoed incredulously, letting out a dry chuckle. "How did I do that?"

"Ella," he began, and his face morphing from indifference to pity. "There is no easy way to say this. You were not born a squib."

"Dumbledore, what are you saying?" Mrs Weasley asked when I made no move to respond.

"What I allowed you to see when I was using Legilimency on you, Ella. Those were memories, not nightmares. They happened to you, the impact so traumatising that they were repressed to the recesses of your subconscious. I believe that the influence of being surrounded by so much magic created cracks through the mental block, allowing bits through," he spoke so factually, impersonal to the point of me feeling as if this were a scheduled appointment.

"What memories? Nightmares? What is…what is going on?" Molly gasped.

"It seems as if Ella's biological parents were less than ideal parents, Molly," Remus said, kneeling down before me with a hand on my knee. It offered next to no comfort.

"What did they do?"

I shut my eyes as the images flew through my mind, scenes I had thought were long forgotten suddenly right before me. I was ashamed. It was real. All of it. Of course it was, I scoffed internally. The memory of the man burning my thigh mirroring my scar. That was from _him._ A reminder of my past forever branded onto my skin.

Everything that I had been told in that horrid house was all a lie. They had damaged me, ruined me beyond repair, turned me into the freak I was. And then they threw it in my face. Blamed me and my weak blood. Forced me out as a child to fend for myself, uncaring as to whether I died or not. This life I was living was not meant to be. I was supposed to be a normal witch, one who got her Hogwarts letter on her eleventh birthday, learnt how to ride a broom, experience the wonder of receiving my destined wand from Ollivander's.

But one sadistic bastard ended my life before it had even begun.

The fire grew dangerously, roaring in a loud burst of flames.

"Ella," Dumbledore said, apathetic to the wild fire. "You are doing that. A surge in any strong emotion is energising what magic cells you have left. Control yourself. Breathe in and out. Count slowly. Think happy thoughts. Embrace them."

His voice was in the back of my mind but I followed his words to the best of my abilities, inhaling sharply and exhaling slowly. It didn't take too long for the heat to die down, leaving only orange embers in the fireplace.

"Very good," Dumbledore praised with an encouraging smile.

"I shouldn't be able to do that," I said, shaking my head.

"It's possible, Ella, and you have done it."

"Why?" I whispered. I didn't know what I was referring to, but he responded anyway.

"From what we have gathered with our limited knowledge, as a child you were being used as an experiment of sorts, an innocent little girl to become a puppet forced to kill on order. The curses were used to try and immunise you against them, strengthen you. It backfired, attacking the cells in which the magic comes from instead."

A strangled gasp was heard from the corner, no doubt from Mrs Weasley.

"Ella," Remus said, holding my cheek in his palm. His gravelly voice dripped like sweet honey, calling for me to fall into him. "I know this is hard for you to hear, but there's more. Can you handle it or would you rather wait for another day?"

"Now. Please."

He nodded slowly, his scarred face wrinkled in worry.

Dumbledore continued. "Your exposure to such dark magic fused it into whatever magic cells you have left."

"Sorry," Arthur interrupted. "But what do you mean by that, Albus?"

"Magic in a child is very uncontrolled and vulnerable. The body is unaccustomed to releasing it measuredly which is what results in accidental magic. Although the dark magic destroyed much of the magic cells in Ella, there a few that survived, similar to stem cells." He stopped suddenly and shook his head. "I apologise, this must not be making much sense. They are not actual cells, but magical residue embedded into the soul. It is far too complicated to examine as of right now. Bear with me.

"It's similar to muscle memory, but in your case it is for magic. Your cells, or residue base, recall only the black magic that was used on you, and when in need of catharsis it is released the only way you subconsciously know how."

"Through destruction," I said. "Because that's all the magic my body knows."

He nodded solemnly.

"Like a bloody useless child," I spat.

"Ella…" Molly murmured, but what could she possibly say that could make me feel better? How the hell could she know what I wanted? What I needed?

"You can learn to control it," Remus said. "You may not be able to learn any new magic, we're not entirely sure on that yet, but there's always hope. Never give up, Ella."

"Remus, I'll still be an explosive squib."

"No, Elle, no. You're not now, and you won't be after. I'm here to help you, teach you different techniques. We'll see what works best for you and try to work on calming your outbreaks. What do you say?"

There was no pity in his expression. He looked hopeful, _so hopeful_ and encouraging. As if he genuinely wanted to help me for myself. No secret agendas.

"This is bullshit," I chuckled bitterly through the lump lodged in my throat.

"It really is," he concurred.

"This is really real?"

"Yes."

They accepted my silence as assenting. Against my better judgement I allowed hope to plant itself in me, and it felt good.

The door was flung open to reveal Fred and George, Extendable Ear in hand.

"What the shit is going on?" George asked as Fred rushed over to me with an indistinguishable expression. From their wide eyes it seemed that they had heard enough.

"Are you okay?" Fred asked, pulling me up into his arms.

"Yes," I said, burying my face into his neck. "I think so."

He chuckled, his breath warming my skin. "I can't believe this."

"Neither can I. It hasn't sunk in completely yet."

"I'm here for you."

"Fred and George Weasley! What have I told you about using those silly contraptions?"

We ignored Molly as George joined our hug. Peeking out from between their bodies I saw Dumbledore wink before he rose from his seat and bid farewell.

* * *

**AN: Happy New Year! I hope everyone had a lovely 2015. If not who cares, it definitely wasn't my good year. You've been blessed with another year to create wonderful memories. I always seem to get the urge to write when I'm swamped with assignments. I hope this behemoth chapter makes up for my absence! Perhaps it's a sign towards 2016 being a good year for fanfiction? I hope so. **

**Thank you for all the follows/faves/reviews, they mean the world to me.**

**And OMG who saw that coming?!**


	37. Wandering

**I don't own Phil Collins. The title's a pun.**

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37\. Wandering

* * *

The room was dark. My body ached, muscles throbbing with an abstract buzz of sluggishness. I could feel my stomach in my throat.

This feeling was becoming routine, of waking up only to sleep and die with my eyes open. The duvet engulfed my body, blocking out the dull green that would otherwise invade my vision. The dark was comforting. It offered no false hope or fantasies. It was bleak and gloomy and real. I could pretend it was late at night, if I listened close enough to my breathing and heartbeat and blocked out the sounds of people around the house. If my brain would have registered anything but the deep pants exploding in my ears I would have been thankful Molly had enough thought to allow me uninterrupted mornings.

Like every other time, the heat would get to me, and I would rise from the bed and force myself to get on with the day.

Fred opened the door, bringing with him a flash of light as bright as his grin before quietly shutting it behind himself, encasing us both in the sweet darkness once again.

"Hey, you."

"Hi."

His arms grazed my ribs through a stretch. I flinched away from his hands. There was nothing worse than an unfulfilling stretch after rising from a coffin.

"My bad," he offered, embracing me again. _Sorry._

"What time is it?" _Whatever._

"Past one in the afternoon. Lunch is on soon, thought I'd get to you before mum."

"Mmm." I melted into his body, nose rubbing into the skin bared over the collar of his t-shirt.

"How was it?"

Hard. Gruelling. Embarrassing. Painful. "Fine."

"What did you work on?" He was persistent.

No answer. It would only be more mortifying. I didn't want to talk about it anymore than we already had. I'm not bloody wonder woman. He must have sensed my reluctance, or interpreted it as lingering sleep.

"You're sweaty."

"It's hot in here."

"Then open the window," he retorted, smiling into my hair where he pressed the softest of kisses.

"Too tired."

Three minutes had probably passed with Fred. It felt like the longest time we had been alone together in…how long? He brought a familiar comfort with him, one that I was more than willing to dive into headfirst and drown in. A more direct and instant death than slow burning every night.

Remus's teaching of my powers had begun the night after Dumbledore had dropped the information on me. After dinner he had led me to the library where I attempted to use magic consciously. Without a wand it would have been very wild and forceful, Remus had said, but all I felt was foolish as I mumbled and exclaimed spell after simple spell to no success. I was ready to call it to an end before he suggested another tactic. Rousing extreme emotion. It was a scary prospect, being so overwhelmed by a single emotion that my instincts took over and lashed out.

Happiness was first. Memories of childhood friends and family, meeting the twins at Hogwarts and being accepted by others. When that failed, we moved on to sadness and anger. It became obvious that Remus was too nice of a man to make me very angry.

That was the first failure of a session. I left feeling more of a squib than ever, thinking that all the incidents before had to be coincidences. But a few meetings later when Moody took over, an entire shelf got caught in flames. It was due to Hermione's garbled cries that we moved to a more isolated room. For days after that my body felt energised and prickly, like a prey sensing an oncoming attack. Once the feeling died down I was in the most intense pain I had ever felt before, the thrumming nerves becoming enflamed and burning me from the inside out. Muscles would coil and tighten until I was sure they would snap, leaving me to sag and decay.

Fred had waited up for me the first night. I had shrugged him off, slapped that hopeful grin off his face with my blunt summary of the failed night. He always waited until morning after that.

My change in behaviour had not gone unnoticed, however. I was staying in bed longer, my patience was short and my frustration grew twice as fast. The twins were good at handling it after a while, laughing it off and chasing the storm clouds over my head away.

"You missed the Hogwarts letters this morning," Fred said. "You'd never believe who made prefect?"

"Hermione for sure. And…not Harry, I'm guessing?"

He chuckled, seating himself on the edge of the bed. "Bingo. Mum's over the moon for Ronnie."

Allowing Fred to pull me onto his lap, I smiled. It was such a blessing to see him every morning when all I wanted was for the world to swallow me whole. With him I was Ella, and somehow I knew who that was. "Good for him. He deserves some attention."

"What, being best friends with the kid who lived against the most powerfully evil wizard in this lifetime isn't enough?"

"No, it's not. And it's easy for him to get lost in your family. What are there, a dozen of you?"

Fred flicked me on the nose several times, eliciting a brief laugh out of me.

"New Defence Against the Dark Arts professor – _again_. The book we need to get for it seems daft. Who d'you reckon it'll be this time, hot vampire?"

"Keep dreaming."

We sat there for a while until the noise from downstairs grew in volume.

"Ready for lunch?"

"What's to eat?"

"Mum's made pie and mash, something about wanting to try out Hermione's mum's secret ingredient or something. Who cares, food!"

The thought of the heavy meal didn't sit well with me, but I had skipped out dinner and slept through breakfast.

George greeted us as we descended the stairs to the dining table, already in his seat.

"Alright, young lovers? Took your time getting down. Didn't know there were so many stairs. Fancy seeing you down here so early, Ella. What's up, couldn't sleep?" he winked, nudging me in the ribs as I sat between him and Fred.

"With all the time away from each other we took the time to reacquaint ourselves with a little quickie," Fred answered, scooping up mash potatoes into his plate before passing on the bowl.

"I hope you guys savoured that moment. I overheard mum earlier saying something about Diagon Alley and," George paused, ensuring eye contact with me before continuing, "She's taking you."

"Me? What for?"

"Hell if I know, but we're coming too," George grinned. "Mum won't notice us take a little detour into Knockturn Alley."

"We're running low on some supplies and want to experiment with some others. We got an owl from one of the shops saying they've got some new stock and we're buzzing to go and get it!" Fred whispered, leaning in close as Ron walked past, chest puffed out exposing his new prefect badge. Fred sneered at Ron's back.

"I thought you couldn't get owls or communicate from here?" I asked.

"Well…I didn't, did I? The shop guy owled us, not the address. So instead of going to the Burrow it came straight to us. Get it?"

"Hm. Smart owl," I acknowledged.

"Owls are smart creatures," George inserted, his voice loud enough to gain the attention of Hermione and Arthur. As if on cue, both began informing everyone about the characteristics and qualities of owls, dominating all conversation.

Fred shoved pie into his mouth. He hadn't realised what he had told me when I first met him in the summer was a complete contradiction to what he had just said. Molly had banned all form of communication in Grimmauld Place, regardless of who was sending it. The owls would have been suspicious, especially so many in the city during the day. What had I been expecting? For him to nod and tell me that he was bullshitting and he had communicated with Angelina from Grimmauld Place? Or maybe the letter had been from when he was at the Burrow. That still didn't sit right with me.

Or perhaps…I had misheard. Maybe they were all allowed to send an owl each at the beginning of their stay here, just so it didn't look suspicious that they had all disappeared at once. Surely Ron or Hermione would have owled Harry then? But Harry was a special case with Dumbledore giving the orders.

And why hadn't the twins assured me of their whereabouts?

I hated how much it still bothered me in spite of how much shit I had on my mind.

Molly pulled me to the side after lunch. From her apron pocket she pulled out an envelope.

"I snatched it before either of the twins saw it," she said, handing it over to me.

I knew what it was before even having to look at the waxed emblem on the back. Opening it was a surreal feeling, one that felt outdated. It felt wrong to open it now. But the childish anticipation and excitement within me glowed from the words swirled neatly inside.

"How would you like to come with me to Diagon Alley? We can get all of your things and then go out for some ice cream."

"I'd like that. Thank you."

Unexpectedly, I gathered the short woman into my arms briefly before rushing off for a change of clothes, feeling a wonderful sense of excitement for my first visit to Diagon Alley.

Travelling by Floo was the fastest way to get there. We entered the Leaky Cauldron, a seemingly ordinary pub with the only indication of it being full of wizards was the cloaks, pointed hats and outstretched wands. Molly sent a quick greeting to the wizard behind the bar before bustling out into the cobblestone streets. A moment delayed by four years could not be savoured, as with a quick budge from the twins I was pushed outside into Diagon Alley.

Imagination and dreams conjure up things beyond logical reasoning, but even in my wildest and most fantastic dreams I could not have pictured such a scene.

The dry heat from the sun cast a honey glazed glow through the street. An assortment of buildings loomed high, displaying a variety of shining and whizzing and bubbling objects. Ahead stood a monster of a building with "Gringotts Wizarding Bank" carved in white marble. Even for the last day before the beginning of school there were people bustling about from shop to shop buying last minute supplies.

I felt far too big in the Wizarding Street.

"Oi, move it or you'll lose mum," George hissed in my ear with an accompanying nudge to grab my attention.

"Keep her attention for about fifteen or so minutes so we can get our things from Knockturn Alley. We'll meet you at Fortescue's for some ice cream. It's on me." Fred pressed a quick kiss to my cheek.

"Where's Knockturn Alley? And Fortescue's?"

"Don't worry about that."

"Just keep mum distracted."

"And have fun shopping!"

They were lost in the small crowd within moments, and I was left to find Mrs Weasley. She was hanging out of the door of a store called, Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions.

"Where are the boys?" she asked, peering over my head with narrowed eyes. "I knew they'd get up to no good. What was I thinking, letting them come? You know, I honestly thought they had wanted to be with you for your first time here. Rotten boys…"

"I think they said they were going to look at Quidditch supplies while I get measured up."

Her wrinkles softened slightly as she settled her eyes back on me, giving up on her search for the twins.

"Alright, at least you have your privacy for this part. Come on now, we've lots to do."

Getting measured for my robes took almost no time at all. Madam Malkin had measuring tapes flying around me within seconds before she began altering robes to fit me as well as the other uniform. She chattered on as she worked, dragging out the process to find out as much information as me as possible. Molly didn't seem to appreciate this. She spoke up for me every time and constantly changed the subject. I couldn't have been more thankful.

After leaving Madam Malkin's we went to get everyone's books from Flourish and Blotts. We had to carry them through several shops before bumping into the twins outside Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, where they suggested Molly shrink the purchases so we wouldn't fall under the weight. She was so red I thought she would have punished them there and then, but she thrust everything into their arms and hurried off into Quality Quidditch Supplies.

"Did she get suspicious?" Fred asked, beginning to shrink the items.

"Of course. She's not stupid, you know," I huffed, shaking my sore arms out as soon as the twins shrunk everything and placed them into their bags and pockets. "Did you get whatever it was you needed?"

Their grins glowed. "That and more."

As soon as Molly emerged even more frazzled than before, the twins treated us to some ice cream where we let our feet rest at a table outside the store. The last stop was Ollivander's.

My feet dragged as we approached the shop with peeling gold lettering above it. I didn't quite know how to feel. It couldn't have been real. I was on my way to get a wand. A _wand._ Was I dreaming? No, I wasn't fortunate in having such pleasant dreams lately. I couldn't dwell on it longer as Fred tugged me inside.

It was dark, a nice dark with little lighting around the boxes piled up to the ceiling. There must have been thousands just from what I could see. Who knew how far back they went. Floating dust caught in my throat. I coughed. There was a man.

"Hello, Mrs Weasley," he greeted, his voice thickly and rich. "Fancy seeing you here. I thought I was all done with your lot. Any broken?"

"Oh, no, nothing of the sort. I'm just escorting a new customer here. It's a bit long overdue, you see."

"How wonderful. Where is this new customer then?"

The Weasley's turn towards me. Shifting slightly, I raised my hand. "Hi."

Ollivander's aged eyes widened in surprise and his mouth wobbled. His speechless stare seemed to last forever before he composed himself. "Well, now. I've been waiting quite some time for you."

With that, he retreated back to his shelves of wands.

"Do I know him?" I whispered to the twins.

"Nah, but he knows you."

"He knows everyone."

"It's why he's the best wandmaker."

"How does this work? Does he automatically know which wand is good for me?"

"Bless you," George cried.

"The wand chooses its owner. Look, he's coming back now. Just remember to focus," said Fred with an encouraging squeeze on my shoulder.

"Here you are, let's try the Alder one first," Ollivander announced, opening a box and pulling out a long wand.

Taking it from his hand, I stared at it.

"Is…this it, then?" I asked, angling the plain wand to observe it better.

"No! Wave it about. See what happens."

Ollivander may have known me, but he definitely did not know that I was as skilled as a baby. Their eyes were all on me, waiting, expecting to see a miracle. A wave of guilt churned the bottom of my stomach like a whirlpool.

"Um, Mr Ollivander, you see…I can't exactly…you know –"

"Just wave it, Ella," one of the twins said.

"Focus."

A sigh. Without another thought I flicked my wrist.

Nothing. Humiliated heat flooded my body. My skin prickled under scrutiny. Nothing happened.

"Focus," a voice whispered. Squaring my shoulders as if it would channel magic easier, I pointed the wand and twirled.

The lamp on the desk shattered and slumped to the floor. On the left shelf several boxes flew out with such force that they crashed into the opposite wall, barely missing Mrs Weasley's head.

"Right," Ollivander clapped, pulling the wand from my hand and encasing it once more, "Not that one then."

"No, actually, that's how her magic goes. I think that was pretty good, in fact," George teased with a wink.

Ollivander didn't hear him as he bustled off into the hallway behind. A _thwack_ echoed, followed by a pained grumble.

"The hazel wand may work better," Ollivander mumbled to himself as he brought out another wand.

This time I refused to acknowledge everyone else in the room. Breathing deeply, I thought of being back under the covers at dawn, hiding from the world in a darkness where no luminous beams could ever penetrate. Like before, no surge of energy filled me, no warmth or intense emotion.

An icy fog clouded my mind and soul. On the surface it was minty and fresh, but lingering ice forms shards, burns and grips and stills life. Upon opening my eyes, there was no obvious sign of any destruction.

"Ella?" Fred called. "You alright?"

"Did…anything happen?"

His face was void of emotion, hollow, but his eyes gave away his fascination. His eyes forcefully held mine. "Your eyes…"

His voice was a breathy gasp through barely parted lips, so light I barely managed to take in his words. My fingers probed around my eyes, feeling the skin and bone beneath.

"What?"

"They clouded over, blue and grey," Molly answered, eyebrows pinched. "Like a storm."

"And now?" I asked, tilting my head down to hide another abnormality.

"It went almost straight away."

Ollivander broke the awkward silence. It wasn't the right wand. He brought out three more, all of which left me even more drained. How did all the eleven year olds feel when the process of getting a wand took so long, with wand after wand rejecting them? Unless it didn't happen to them as much. How typical. Even the wands thought I wasn't worthy. Maybe I should have just stayed in Ottery. I wasn't needed in the wizarding world, I surely wouldn't be able to function. Perhaps I should just work with Filch and gain experience from him, aspire to clean and be grouchy for the rest of my life. _Anything_ as long as I could remain in this world. This topsy-turvy life of mine that had no direction, no purpose, no identity.

Was it worth it?

The pain, the humiliation, the bullying, the sneering, the constant doubt and falling, always falling.

Would it ever stop? Would I land on two feet, or crash and burn and bleed into the cracks of the stone?

Did I even care anymore?

Fred was holding me close, murmuring sweet encouragements and false possibilities. His hand dangling over my shoulder was clutched firmly in mine, fingers interlocked; strong covalent bonds chaining us together.

Ollivander emerged once again, a thoughtful gaze and slow steps. I hope he wasn't annoyed, but there were no other customers so he couldn't have been too troubled by the time I was taking up. The mess bothered me, I didn't want to leave him to clean it all up on his own, but then I remembered that he was a wizard and was capable of magic that would clean it up while he got on with other business.

"I have a feeling…" Everyone was quiet as he held the wand aloft. It almost seemed to glow in the dim candlelight, a deep azure. Grey eyes flicked up, dancing with something close to triumph. "Do you feel that?"

I couldn't feel anything but more disappointment and Fred's body. I don't think he was paying attention anyway, his attention back to the wand.

"Give it a go."

Squeezing Fred's hand, I used my other hand to take the wand.

My body froze over, blanketed by a wet air that soaked through my pores and invigorated my soul. It was the sweetest breeze on a hot summer's day, aloe on a sting. Then the wand _did _glow, a hazy sapphire encompassing my vision.

It was there. Just within reach but still too far away, like trying to hold on to a complete dream as reality dragged me into the tangible world.

And just like water spilling through fingers, the feeling of magic dissipated.

"That's it," Ollivander declared. "That's your wand."

He didn't look all too pleased like the Weasleys, all three grinning with something akin to pride and relief.

"What's wrong?" Fear began creeping over the sunshine and rainbow moment I had just experienced. It was too soon.

"What kind of wand is it?" George questioned, ignoring the look on Ollivander's face and my question.

"Hawthorn," he replied. "I don't normally…can you cast a spell with the wand? At your age, what, fourteen? Yes, you should know a fair few. I just need to see how you can handle it."

"Oh, Ollivander, I'm sure that won't be necessary," Molly cut in, beginning to usher us away from the desk and pulling her purse out. "Dumbledore has given his consent."

Obviously discomforted, he nevertheless agreed and took the money from Molly.

Leaving Diagon Alley through the Leaky Cauldron, a mantra was spinning in my head, dazed with the weight of my wand – _my _wand – in my pocket.

Did the wand make a witch or wizard?

* * *

A party was being thrown in place for dinner for the new prefects. I was all too happy to slink in the shadows as everyone mingled with each other, but still latching onto the twins. Instead of spending their last evening before school fooling everyone with tricks and pranks, they were huddled in a corner with Mundungus, the little odd ginger one. His shifty eyes put me on nerves, especially when they settled on me a little too long. His gaze blurred between wondering what I looked like underneath my clothes or what things I could have possibly stashed on my person for him to nick. Neither option was appealing.

Harry came over soon after with a nod of acknowledgment. I was forgotten to all the boys again. It made little difference. I couldn't keep track of the goings on of their business.

I was pleasantly surprised when Moody shrugged off having a lesson on the last day. Too sucked in by the party and jovial atmosphere, he said it was worth me taking a break. Without another word he trudged off to the food table. The wand stuck into my thigh through my pocket. I hadn't taken it out since leaving Diagon Alley.

Turning back to the group I found that the twins had disappeared. Mundungus had fled to another corner of the room, leaving Harry and myself standing awkwardly watching the rest of the occupants in the room.

"Hey," I greeted, curling my hair behind my ear.

"Hi."

"You alright?"

Harry nodded, eyes wandering the room. "Yeah. And you?"

"Can't complain. Much."

"…Excited for Hogwarts tomorrow?"

"Still hasn't hit me yet."

The conversation died away as the white noise from around the room came into focus. With stiff steps, Harry turned and left. I didn't blame him. If there was an opportunity to get away from myself then I'd take it with both hands.

Feeling suffocated in the bursting room I was about to leave to a deserted area of the house when Remus waved me over. I joined him by Sirius and Moody.

"Ella." His smile was crooked and sweet.

"Hello, Remus."

Sirius pulled out a seat and patted it, showing off his wicked grin.

"Thanks." The wand dug deeper into my skin as I sat down. I shoved it to the side until it was bearable. "Hi, Sirius."

"Where's your other half?" he inquired, searching around the room for the twin heads of red hair.

"Doing what's good for him and staying well away from you." A tug at the corner of my lip revealed a smirk. Sirius was always good for a laugh. I soon realised that it was easy being around him when you stopped thinking. He emitted a carefree aura, one that I absorbed like a sponge and mimicked. It was a shame I only had the slight surge in confidence when we were together with Remus.

His hand gripped his shirt over his heart. "Ouch! Such words bite me with venom. Do you behave this way with your boyfriend?"

"I'm not his pet."

"Does he punish you?"

"I'm not a child."

"What's tha' shit coming out your mouth?" Moody growled, thumping Sirius on the back of his head. Recognising the shadows and highlight in his eyes, I could only imagine what was on Sirius's mind.

"Leave her alone, Padfoot," Remus said. He offered me a bottle of cool butterbeer. I declined.

"We're on good terms now, Moony, let me have my fun before I'm starved of her presence. Fuck, these kids are leaving tomorrow. What am I going to do all day, then?"

"Going to miss us?"

He snorted in his wolfish way. "Miss seeing your knickers in the laundry, that's what."

"I'm underage. I declare paedophilia."

"_No_, I won't miss you." His voice rose, and I could have sworn a slight flush took over his usual pallor, hidden by his dark hair. He looked otherwise unruffled. "But, y'know…it'll be quiet. I'll have to find other ways to keep myself occupied."

My heart went out to him. After all those years stuck in an isolated prison with only the company of shrill screams and greedy demons, he was thrust into another prison. Even if it was his home it wasn't at all homely. It reeked of dusty ghosts living within the walls, mocking him every second. And he would have to bare it alone from tomorrow with very little company to keep his sanity intact.

"I called you over to tell you about your new role at Hogwarts," Remus started, crossing his legs. "Your Hogwarts letter enrols you as an official student. Under normal circumstances you would have had to go to Dumbledore's office before the sorting begins to get sorted in privacy. However, Dumbledore has allowed for you to remain in the company of Gryffindors. It's up to you whether you'd like to move into the Gryffindor tower – there is a bed assigned to you if you so wish with the other sixth year girls, although you would be continuing with your fourth year curriculum. If not, you may stay in your dorm in the kitchen dorms."

Moody carried on in his no nonsense, blunt way. "Your lessons will be continued in the same way. You are to meet with your professors one to one, with the exception of Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"What does that mean?"

"Your new professor has been informed of your condition but still demands her lessons be met accordingly. You are to be in her class with the other sixth years."

"But I've yet to do my fourth year exams."

Remus fidgeted. "Your professor demands you to catch up."

"What? That'll be three years of knowledge - it's insane. Do I have to? And I barely even know anyone."

"Well get to know them. And don't do anything out of line." There was something about his magical eye stilling that had my skin prickling.

"I can't do the practical." My voice was but a mumble. They still heard me.

"Yes, you can, Ella," Remus said, squeezing my knee. "You'll have the twins there to practice with. And McGonagall has even offered to give you extra lessons."

"God, I feel like this year is going to be a bitch," I groaned, my fingers raking over my scalp.

"_Can you feel it coming in the air tonight_?" Sirius sang.

A shout met our ears. It wasn't so loud as to silence the rest of the room, but it was near. Scrambling up the stairs I first noticed the room the sound came from. Looking in from the outside had me stumbling the last few steps, recalling the incident when we were playing hide and seek. The second thing that caught my attention was the horrific sight of Molly on the ground, her dead family before her as Harry watched on.

Remus was the first to act. His wand was out within seconds as he cast _riddikulus._ Even after the corpses disappeared the image of the lifeless twins were fixed into my mind.

* * *

The carriage ride was over too quickly and before I knew it we were back in Hogwarts. It seemed like the summer was but a distant memory as we walked into the Great Hall.

"Our last first day back," George noted, taking his seat beside Fred at the Gryffindor table.

"Better make every day count," Fred smirked, eyeing the students filling the Hall.

"You lot better not forget about me once you're out of here," I said.

"Never!" They cried in unison.

Fred looped his arm around my neck, bringing my face within inches of his. His breath ghosted over my skin before his lips locked onto mine. I sighed into the kiss, feeling starved of his touch and affection. With Molly's probing gaze at Grimmauld Place, their business plans and my magic lessons we hadn't had much time to ourselves. His other hand came up, fingers grazing along my cheekbone down to my jaw where he angled my face and delved further into my lips. It was a mind blowing kiss.

In the back of my mind I was aware of being in the Great Hall with all the other students and professors taking their seats. I was never much for public displays of affection. But all I could focus on was his moist lips slanted over mine as he made up for time wasted. My hands rested on his neck and chest as his began to wander. Delicious heat surrounded me and my lungs grew weak. We ignored the sounds of gagging and the giggles and the groans. A loud _hem, hem, _grated my nerves. We ignored that too.

Fred's head snapped back as he hissed through his teeth, his hand flying to the back of his neck. I jumped back before turning his head to see.

"Sorry," I apologised, thinking I had tugged too hard on his hair. I still wasn't used to the short length.

"It wasn't you," he said.

George nudged him and nodded to the front where the professors and other members of staff sat. Sitting upright like a rod was jammed up her arse was a tubby, toady looking woman. If that wasn't bad enough, the abundance of pink nearly blinded me among the row of dark cloth. Her small eyes smirked down at us. She tutted, shaking her head.

"Who the hell is that?" Fred groused, his hand now sitting on my thigh.

"Our new victim." George's voice curved with his grin.

"DADA?"

"Holy shit, she's teaching DADA?" Fred had to hold back a laugh. "Her face would scare even Voldy away, that's for sure."

"He'd probably disappear for another decade just to get his vision back."

"I'm actually glad I have to suffer being in a class with her," I said, finally turning away from the pink eye sore. "I don't know if I could have managed being taught by her alone."

"You definitely dodged a curse on that one," Fred agreed, lacing our fingers together. It always surprised me how open he was with his emotions.

If her appearance wasn't bad enough, her interrupting Dumbledore during his speech had everyone seething. Even McGonagall's distaste of the woman showed plainly on her face.

The twins continued to throw their own commentary during the pink demon's – Professor Umbridge's – lecture. Lee snickered behind his hand from across the table.

"Coming to Gryffindor?" Fred asked as everyone got to their feet once the introductions were over, ready to reacquaint with friends and prepare for lessons.

"Sure," I nodded, taking his hand.

Being in a uniform that fit me with the Gryffindor colours helped make me fit into the crowd. Less people stared from the previous year, when even the twins' too big robes attracted attention. Some even smiled. Passing a gaggle of girls whispering about us still being together – a record for the Weasley twin. Was there tension over the summer? Had we matured our relationship? Who exactly was I and how did I come to meet Fred let alone grab his fancy?

Who the fuck cared?

I recognised a girl step away from the group and approach Fred.

"Hey, stranger," she smiled prettily, batting her eyes and swaying from side to side.

"Oh, you," was his response. I hid a smirk.

"How was your summer? I didn't hear from you at all."

"I was busy with my girlfriend."

Her lips twitched. "I see. You still could have owled for a friendly chat."

Fred leaned heavily on one foot, his hand holding mine pulling me almost in front of him. Melissa didn't get the picture. "I have friends for that."

Before he even fully ended his sentence he dragged me through the hallway and up to the stairs that led to Gryffindor tower.

"Merlin, that girl needs to get laid, and not by me."

"I must admit, she's got taste."

He kissed my temple. "Mine's better."

"Don't get all sappy on me, I don't want my uniform ruined on the first day."

"How about I take it off of you, then?" His voice was husky as he breathed into my ear. My heart thumped. This wasn't his usual teasing.

"Bloody ace!" George exclaimed, shoving between us. "I got the poster ready for the noticeboard and the girls said they'd meet us in the common room. Damn, the girls in our year have changed over the summer."

"Changed how?"

Lee ran up in front of us and walked backwards. "Alicia has the hottest tan, Angelina's even fitter, Katie's boobs –" Lee's hands cupped the air a decent bit away from his body; his mouth widened into a circle, mouthing "wow."

"Katie's not in our year," Fred corrected.

"She still counts."

The journey continued with Lee and George naming all the girls they had seen that had improved over the summer holidays. Soon we arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady. George gave her the password, and as soon as we entered they sauntered straight towards the noticeboard where they pinned up their poster.

Wearing the Gryffindor colours and emblem made me lost in the sea of the other students in the House, but it did nothing to make me feel part of their family. A strong urge to go down to the kitchen and meet the elves twisted my intestines. I needed to go down and see them, find out how they were and what they did during the summer. They were familiar company and I felt more at ease with them than the students I was pretending to be like.

Fred, George, Lee, Alicia, Angelina and Katie claimed their positions on the sofas, catching up. Fred winked across the room, tilted his head as an order to go to them. Upon reaching them he pulled me down into his lap, resting his chin on my head and rubbing my leg with his thumb. It appeared they were done admiring Katie's newly developed breasts – which were rather impressive, I admit – and had now moved onto Alicia's holiday to Thailand. She divulged of a summer romance with hot sex, sunny beaches and sharp drinks. Just by looking at her she seemed more of an adult.

"You staying here tonight?"

"…No. I want to see the elves."

"Sure?"

"Yeah."

He didn't press any further. A quiet response of, "my bed's always open for you," was all he offered. Everyone inquired as to their whereabouts during the summer. That was when Harry got into it with another student.

The first day back and already shit was going down.

I wondered if I was more like Harry or the elves.

* * *

**You know how for the last update I put in the AN that I hoped this year was pleasant? I'm working on it. Not going too well as you can probably tell by this looooooong wait. I've been dilly dallying for a while with this. I hope it's good? **

**Thank you to the Cloti fanfiction I read in a day that gave me the urge to finish this at 2.28am. Don't you just love it when you read something so fantastically written and plotted that you feel the need to express your own story as well? **

**Also, I was looking back at some old chapters a while ago and thanks for still reading even though a lot had no point to them and were a load of bollocks. I would say watch this space because I might edit it but I honestly can't see that happening. So thanks for sticking with this, I guess. Almost 50,000 views! I never imagined something I wrote would ever be read by so many people all over the world. You guys!**


	38. Confessions of a Squib and Weasley

38\. Confessions of a Squib and Weasley

* * *

Having a nightmare on the first day of school makes you wake up in a bad mood. No, not bad, terrible. Horrid. What makes it absolutely catastrophic is the new spot that screams for attention. The big red imperfection sat on my chin as if my normal chin just wasn't chinny enough. I couldn't stop fidgeting, finding any excuse to hide it by cradling my chin in my hand as I leaned my elbow on whatever surface was available. Thankfully, Alicia came to my rescue during lunch as she plonked a small bag on the table.

"Move your hand," she ordered as she unzipped the bag.

"I'm eating," I said.

"Move it."

As soon as my hand fell into my lap I lowered my face, only for it to be held up by Alicia's forefinger and thumb.

"Your skin is slightly darker than mine but I got some concealer from Grace as well. It'll blend well into your skin. Keep your head there."

Alicia squeezed a drop of liquid onto her finger and lightly rubbed it over the spot, repeating the process with some concealer from another bottle. Grabbing a brush, she blended the two over the spot and my chin. Another bottle, some more blending and brushing.

"The redness has gone but you can still see a slight bump. Here, have a look."

My reflection in the compact mirror had my mouth falling open. The spot had disappeared.

"Now will you please eat and talk with us?"

I looked up to see the girls smiling at me.

"Was I that bad?"

"No," Angelina said at once. "But it was obvious it was bothering you."

"Thanks," I said, handing Alicia her mirror back.

"Happy, now?" Fred asked, his thumb turning my face towards his as he gently stroked over my chin. Was he also mesmerised by the ethereal powers of makeup?

"She did a great job."

"You looked great before." He placed a chaste kiss to my lips.

"Ella, you're in my DADA class, right?" Katie said, sipping her juice from a goblet.

I nodded. "Has anyone had that class yet?"

Lee's following groan was so loud it startled students from the Ravenclaw table who turned to glare at him. He flipped them off, his face buried into the table. The twins patted his back in sympathy.

"That bad?" Katie asked.

"Worse," Lee's muffled voice answered. "She's a bat straight out of hell."

"Toad," the twins corrected.

"What happened?"

"Well for starters, no magic," George said with a sneer.

"Oh, yeah, good one, George," Katie laughed.

"Babe," Angelina put her hand over Katie's. "He's not kidding"

Katie's eyes bulged out. "What?!"

"We couldn't have our wands out," Angelina stabbed at her food, no doubt picturing the foul professor as she did so. "She's making us work from a book that we could have easily done in our third year."

"Is she allowed to do that?"

"Apparently."

"She should be sent away simply from the way she dresses," Alicia said. "All that pink surely means there's a screw loose somewhere."

"Or a few," Fred snorted.

"She's just infuriating!" Angelina growled.

"There, there, Ange," George consoled, rubbing his hand along her back. "At least she didn't threaten you with detention."

"You always get detention, though," I said.

"Extra time with her, though? Not a chance." George shook his head.

"And she let on to destroying the snackboxes if she ever saw them," Fred said.

"Or anything else of ours."

Katie and I gasped. "She didn't. Great, now I'm dreading this lesson. Thanks, guys."

Fred walked with me to my DADA lesson after lunch. Alicia and Katie were walking ahead as Fred ambled behind leisurely, his arm around my shoulders.

From everyone's reactions I knew this lesson was going to be a bore and the professor a nightmare. It was my first lesson in an actual class with other students in Hogwarts, but I was going to do it without Fred. I had Katie, but we weren't the closest. She was nice and spunky and protective and sarcastic, but I didn't really know her, the real her.

The only thing that had me anticipating the lesson was the no magic aspect of it. I felt guilty that the one thing everybody hated about the class was the only thing I was looking forward to. I still didn't have a good control of magic and dreaded the thought of other people witnessing my disasters. Maybe this would be a good start in integrating myself further with the students. The other professors would help me with spells and my focus until I would be able to join them during the usual times for classes. I would be able to rely less on books and more on my own ability.

I thought of Bill and Nanny Anne, and how proud they would be to see me making these leaps in such a short amount of time while everyone around me had been practicing for years. It would be such an achievement.

"You ready?" Fred's voice brought me out of my thoughts.

"No."

He smiled at my answer and swooped down to kiss me, his lips landing on my cheek at the last second as I turned my face.

"Fred…"

"How can I resist you?" he chuckled. "You really expect me to keep the PDA down?"

"Yes."

"You're cute."

"You're annoying."

Fred glanced at his watch. "I need to go now, George and I have some devious plans to perfect. Dinner in the kitchens? Just you and me…"

"Okay." My hand pushed him away as he leered down at me, forcing me to the wall. Without his long hair to curtain the privacy of our faces, we were exposed to everyone around us. Unfortunately, at that moment it happened to include a very small and blinding professor.

"_Hem-hem._"

"In a minute," Fred murmured, his lips grazing my jaw. I hardly heard the exchange, too distracted by the heat of him surrounding me. Until it was gone.

"What the f–"

"We do not have a minute, Mr Weasley. Lesson begins now." Professor Umbridge smiled sweetly at him, her hands clasped together and head tilted. Fred glared at her from the other side of the corridor. "I'm sure you have some studying to do. You need every minute you get, from what I saw of your performance this morning. Now, hop along."

She pivoted on her kitten heels and went into the classroom before Fred could retort.

"Bitch."

"Did you hit the wall?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No, but there is something I really want to hit. Someone."

"Fred, don't get into it with the new professor. She'll be gone by the end of the year, just like all the others."

"It's only the first day and she's pissing me off more than Snape," he growled, fixing his uniform.

"Ignore her," I said. "Go on, George is waiting for you."

"Have fun," he drawled sarcastically, winking as Alicia dragged him off with a farewell wave of her own.

People were already taking their seats inside the classroom, making sure they were amongst their friends. Katie grabbed my arm and pulled me to the middle row of tables but on the far right. Sitting in uniform amongst people my own age in a school setting felt normal, just like back in Ottery. The anxiety bubbled into excitement for the lesson to come. At that moment I didn't care that probably no one in the room knew my name or my face, or that maybe they'd stare when the professor would call out my name for register.

"Good afternoon class," Umbridge said, silencing the class. "Welcome to Defence Against the Dark Arts, where I am here to help you finally grasp the essentials. There will be no need for wands, so back in your bags they go."

The students who hadn't heard from others about the strict rule whispered their outrage. Katie pinched my elbow and pushed a scrap of parchment in front of me on the table. Quickly checking to see Umbridge was looking elsewhere as she carried on her introduction. I had never passed notes before in class. The friends that I had in my year were always the type to keep their heads down either concentrating or doodling, never the chatty types. Witnessing the ones who had passed notes and gotten caught I'd learned the art of it. Now was the time to put it into practise.

At the bottom was a rough sketch of a toad in a pink dress and bow with crazy spirals for eyes and a speech bubble beside it.

"_I teach DADA and not Transfiguration because I can't do anything to fix my face"_

I stifled a giggle, covered the parchment with my hand before scribbling back a response. Beside a poor stick drawing of Dumbledore was another speech bubble:

"_You look like you could turn a basilisk to stone_"

Katie snickered aloud, slapping her hand over her mouth a second too late as all heads whipped around to her.

"Is there something funny, Miss?" Umbridge said.

"No! No, sorry, I was about to sneeze. I'm alright now."

She crumpled the parchment and brought it to her lap under the table. Umbridge made her way towards us, beady little eyes flicking between us.

"What is that in your hand, Miss…?"

"Katie Bell."

"Your hand?"

She brought them both up, fingers splayed open and palms up.

"Nothing. See?"

Umbridge tutted. From her sleeve came out her wand, and with a lazy flick the parchment flew into her hand. She smoothed it open, an eyebrow steadily rising as she read.

"Oh dear. Dear, oh dear. Miss Wood, I must say I am very disappointed. Dumbledore informed me of your, shall we say, burden. But from the good of my heart I decided to overlook it and give you the benefit of the doubt in allowing you into the classroom, and may I say that I expected better."

Whispers were starting up again, drowned by the blood pumping in my ears. Were the gossiping about me? My name? The new girl getting told off? My _burden? _

Did she say Ella Wood? Is she related to Oliver? They look nothing alike. Will she be trying out for Quidditch? Doesn't look like she'll last long on the pitch. _That's _Fred's girlfriend? What is he thinking? Why is she sitting beside Katie? What's up with her nose? How comes I've never seen her before?

"Spreading notes in the first few minutes of class? Tut tut. How disappointing. This will be your only warning. Another incident, and it will be a detention. Is that clear?"

"Professor, it was me!" Katie said. "I wrote it first, not Ella."

"Miss Bell, I take it you are aware of your friend's predicament and therefore commend you for looking out for her. However, she must abide by the rules just like everyone else, regardless of how capable she is in comparison," Umbridge smiled at Katie.

"No, I started it. Ella didn't know –"

"That she was disrespecting a member of staff and also the Headmaster?"

"She didn't!"

"Miss Bell, do not raise your voice at me."

"But you're not listening."

"This is your first warning now be quiet. Miss Wood, was I clear?"

There was a noose around my throat preventing me from speaking. My face felt hot and there was sweat coating my skin. All I could do was rub my hands against my thighs. I nodded.

"I should like you to reply with either a 'Yes, Professor Umbridge' or a 'No, Professor Umbridge'."

I swallowed the bubble in my throat but the elephant on my chest wouldn't budge. When I spoke my voice came out like a mouse's squeak.

"Yes, Professor Umbridge."

She fixed us with a pointed look, turned on her feet back to the front of the classroom and burned the parchment until ashes drifted to the floor. We knew she could have cleared it up. She left it.

"Dumbledore has kept Miss Ella Wood in the dark from you for a while now," she said, addressing the class. "I, however, do not agree with this, and feel it my duty to inform you of your fellow student. You should not be blinded and deluded as to her condition that is neither right to you or her. Ella must learn to embrace her difference. There is to be no belittling or snide remarks in this classroom. She is a student here and you will treat her accordingly."

Katie began shaking, her hands fisting her robes.

"Ella had the misfortune of being born a squib. It is unsure of whether she is capable of much magical ability. This classroom, without the use of wands, is perfect for her to assimilate to the schooling and the rules."

The words flew around in my head. _Squib squib squib squib squib. _It was out now. The entire classroom knew. They were looking, I could feel it, pairs of eyes burning into me, actually burning me through my skin. I was hot but I felt cold and I would willingly melt into the floor if I could but then I'd be a pool staining the ground and that would make me even weirder that I could do such a thing, like an animagus but not exactly and not as cool and clever because I couldn't even do basic magic.

"Now that that's done, shall we begin? Open your books please."

For the rest of the hour I kept my head down and concentrated on the words in the book as much as I could. I didn't get very far, though. It was too quiet, unbearably so. The turning of pages was a welcome sound but it reinforced everybody else's capability as they read more. From the looks I managed to catch at the people in front of me the silence was as odd and unnerving to them as it was to me, even though I was used to having lessons alone. Every so often I was sure I heard whispers.

As soon as the bell rang the only destination I had in mind was my dorm down in the kitchen. Leaving the room I couldn't tell whether someone had purposely bumped their shoulder into mine or if I ran into it. I apologised anyway.

"Ella, I'm really sorry," Katie said. She had already apologised straight after the incident as quietly as possible.

"Katie, it's fine, really. You didn't know. I'm just sorry you got a warning."

"Don't worry about that, I deserved it. It's so hard not to say anything! That was possibly the most boring hour I've ever sat through. And it was only the first lesson."

Fred was leaning by the wall. As glad as I was to see him, I knew he'd want us to spend some time with the other Gryffindors before I had my Charms lesson and then dinner.

"Hey, how was your lesson?"

I walked straight into him, making him stumble backwards.

"Whoa, was it that bad? Are muggle schools different?" he asked, rubbing my back.

"Umbridge has it in for her," Katie said.

"Katie!"

"I passed her a note and Umbridge took it out on her and then she –"

"Gave me a warning. Next time I step out of line I'll get a detention."

"What? That's out of order," Fred said.

We began walking towards the Entrance Hall. Everybody was most likely outside by the lake, taking in as much of the sun as they could before the harsh autumn weather came.

"That wasn't even the worst of it. Umbridge then went on to tell everyone –"

"About the new Ministry guidelines on education DADA. How was your experimenting?"

"Huh? Oh, it was fine. Managed to catch up with Lina on my way here."

"Ella! Stop interrupting me," Katie snapped. "She told the class about her being a squib."

I carried on walking even as Fred froze with Katie. There was a tornado in my stomach spinning and spinning and growing until dark clouds seized my lungs. I could see George and Lee dancing by a tree next to the Black Lake.

"Are you okay?" Fred asked, pulling at my elbow to face him.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. No one had the chance to say anything about it but I'm sure the entire school will know soon."

It actually hit me then, that _the entire school would know _about me being a squib. Everyone. I wouldn't be able to walk down the corridors without people knowing who I am. I wouldn't be able to hide in the shadows and go to classes on my own without having people suspicious. They would all know.

They probably already did know.

"Oh my God."

"Ella, just breathe, it's not a big deal, come on."

Fred pulled me over to the tree where I saw George and Lee. They yelled out their greetings but stopped short when they saw us.

"What happened?"

"Umbridge," Fred said through gritted teeth. He sat me down against the tree, loosened my tie and unbuttoned my shirt some. "You okay?"

"Everyone knows."

"What did she do?"

"She told the class she's a squib."

"WHAT?!"

"You need to tell Dumbledore."

"Give her some space."

"I'm fine."

"I swear if she wasn't a professor…"

"Do you need anything?"

"What are _you_ looking at?"

"What's going on?"

"I'm fine!"

Angelina and Alicia had arrived. I apologised for yelling. Them not knowing was a good thing, I told myself. But someone would have to tell them now, and I didn't know if I could hear it again myself.

"You sure?" George asked.

"Yes," I exhaled. "It was bound to happen. I guess I should be happy someone got it over with quickly."

"Bullshit," Fred said. "If it was a good thing Dumbledore would have announced it before now."

"Dumbledore doesn't know shit," I murmured.

"Ella?"

"Look, I'm fine. It was just a bit of a shock. I can handle myself."

He looked unsure. I felt unsure. But I wouldn't let it take over me. It was only the first week, I had plenty of time left in Hogwarts and I wouldn't let something so small ruin it.

"So what if everyone knows I'm crap at magic? Now I don't have to hide," I said.

"But there are people here who won't like that you're here," Alicia said. "Don't think that everyone will just leave you to your own business."

I had thought about that. But what could I do? I didn't want one of my friends to hang around me all the time, babysitting me. I'd have to just get on with it and hope Dumbledore knew and could do something about it. It was out of my hands.

I wasn't alone. I had support and resources to get better. Already I could feel a change in my magic. It was still weak and couldn't control my magic. The other day in Transfiguration I had managed to turn a quill into a pen. It was not a very good one, but I still managed to use magic without the involvement of fire. McGonagall's smile and applause resolved my belief. I could do this. I would do this.

* * *

Having dinner in the kitchen the previous night turned out to be a great idea, because at breakfast I was aware of all the stares. The Gryffindors were great at keeping me distracted, glaring at everyone who did not look away quick enough and making absurd jokes.

Dumbledore made an announcement.

"It has come to my attention that the condition of one of our honoured students has become the cause of gossip as of yesterday," he said, silencing the hall as everyone put down their utensils, halting their breakfasts. "Any untoward behaviour will be punished immediately. We are a principled school, and a respectable community. I urge each and every one of you to be welcoming and charming in your behaviour towards this student. You will do both yourselves and your ancestors' great honour by being the warm hearted students I know you to be.

"Her safety was the sole reason I have been silent up until now, but I have every confidence in you that the worry was for nought. Compassion goes a long way. I hope you all share your compassion to our student and fellow witch, Ella Wood."

Everybody already knew who I was and where I was most likely to sit. I didn't bother standing up, but I didn't want to look like the cold hearted bitch who knew she was different and think it made her a goddess. I offered smiles to those I could, those my eyes landed on briefly then moved on point two seconds later. It was dizzying.

Fred's hand gave mine a squeeze. It was warm and soft. I hadn't realised mine was shaking.

It was only a matter of time to see whether the Headmaster's words would have any effect.

* * *

Fred was a comfy pillow. Not like the normal pillow that you use for your head, but the long one for your entire body. There was a place for every part of me on him. His shoulder cushioned my head while my arm cuddled his waist and leg hooked over his thighs. He wasn't soft, though, but the years he'd spent attacking bludgers made him wonderfully sturdy.

"…And just as I grabbed a bit of her hair she _flipped_! Spun around with her wand when Flitwick stepped in between us and she jinxed him instead! Poor guy, getting a wedgie by a student."

"You're terrible."

"Hey, I didn't tell her to get violent."

"But you goaded her!"

"Because it's fun, Elle! You know fun it is to watch Lina get angry. She's like a firecracker."

"You know…you talk about her a lot."

Fred shifted, moving his hand from where it was threading through my hair to stroke my face.

"You have nice cheeks," he murmured. "Not quite chipmunk like but not hollow. Really nice cheeks."

"Are you avoiding the conversation?"

He sighed. "Ella, I don't know where you're going with this."

"It's just…I know you two have a past, but you bring her up almost all the time, whether it's something that happened in class or just in general," I said, feeling foolish for every word that left my lips. Why was I doing this? I knew Fred was genuine and wouldn't be doing anything immoral. I guess I just wanted reassurance. As if he didn't tell me or show me already. God, what was I doing? "No, forget I said anything, I'm sorry I know it's nothing, just ignore me I'm being stupid."

"Elle, love, don't feel stupid. If you have something on your mind I want you to tell me." He shuffled until we were both on our sides facing one another, his fingers locked with mine. He kissed my knuckles. "I guess I talk about Angelina because we're good friends, nothing else. She's in my house and a lot of my classes so of course I'll be spending a lot of time with her. But that doesn't mean that I don't love you."

"What?" I managed to ask as my mouth went dry and heart drummed crazily.

He smiled his crooked smile. "I love you, Elle."

I kissed him, and somewhere in that kiss I told him I loved him too, a confession he swallowed and spread around my body through his magical touches and lips. Because I did. I loved Fred Weasley, and he loved me.

"Will it always be like this?" I asked.

"Merlin, I hope so. I really, really do. I love you."

"I love you, Fred."

* * *

**AN: This took much longer than I had anticipated. My life isn't a sob story so I won't bore anyone with the details but I hope you enjoy! Had to have a little happy ending after hitting Ella with a minor shit storm.**


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